Metal Gear Solid: Eclipse Team Special Edition
by Pablosky
Summary: Finnally updated! Inspired in Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six.
1. Introduction

OK, by right now you are probable asking yourself what this is all about. As I said, I think my first chapters weren't up to speed with the new ones, and I decided to remake them. With no more to say . . .  
  
Disclaimer: I have not created Metal Gear Solid, nor it's characters nor many concepts However, ECLIPSE is a personal creation of Mrs. Wade and myself, capiche?  
  
tactical espionage action  
  
METAL GEAR SOLID  
  
--eclipse team--  
  
By Pablo Nicolás Naso.  
  
Editing by Simon Wolf-Gough  
  
Created by Pablo Nicolás Naso and Sarah Wade.  
  
New York City, United States of America, September 12th, 2009.  
  
The feeling in the air was saturating. The combined smell of near- decomposed Pizzas, alcohol, electronic equipment and two men who had not bathed in days was enough to set a feeling of Darkness, or decadence. The atmosphere was of gloom, without any efficient way of illumination and the walls, dressed with moisture and rust. It could be said that it fitted the feeling of the people inside, that of facing a gigantic, invincible enemy.  
  
The only light bulb hanged from a cable. They could use better, but it was better to just pretend it was a poor neighborhood's home, or a crack house. The paranoia was still in their minds, they wouldn't like to realize that the place was bugged.  
  
Despite of the depressive look, there was something going on. The computers were always on; there was always something to see, even if it leads to another dead end, to another impenetrable side of the armor of the monster.  
  
And that was all that it seemed. Fighting that entity, the Patriots, was an overwhelming task, not for people who gave up easily. Fortunately, they did not. It required patience, but that seemed lacking. They had tried, and the depressive atmosphere also reflected tiredness, boredom, and hopelessness. It seemed impossible.  
  
Once, PHILANTROPY's mission had been to hunt down the Metal Gears around the world. Metal Gears, the deadliest creation of the human mind. A massive, Mobile Nuclear Launch Platform, with the ability to fire a nuclear warhead from any place to any place in the World, and with a Walking mode of transportation, allowing it to go though the most difficult terrain. They had been the object of desire of Generals and Terrorists, and the ultimate weapon. But not anymore. At the end of the day, a physical threat such as Metal Gear was nothing compared to an unsubstantial threat; an organization that didn't officially exist, an army of shadows, the La-Li-Lu- le-Lo. It was the lack of knowledge, the feeling that they were fighting blind-folded that drove you insane and made you wonder if putting a bullet into your brain could solve things. Sometimes it felt like that.  
  
And why? All because of a promise, impossible to fulfill, but neither of them gave up that easily. Those 12 names where encrypted, to a point that not even the most powerful computers (The National Security Agency's Cray 3) would be able to decipher it.  
  
The reason of the contributor's finding was the fact that each 12 members of the Wise men committee had a different encryption protocol; the one on the 7th member was a slightly modified version of the TAPDANCE code used by the NSA; Otacon could half-decrypt it, and fond that one of them had actually lent $1,500,000 dollars to Philanthropy in Europe. Of course, every Philanthropy contributor was anonymous, thus leading, as always, to nothing.  
  
It was so dark, so hard; neither of them would dare to even mention a rest. It was stressing, but it had to be done. If didn't, no one would. Besides, neither of them really believed that they could get some sort of vacation. They were watched, they would always have to remember that . . . There's no walking out, everything had to be done covertly, looking over your own shoulder, whispering in the dark.  
  
"I'm sorry, Hal, but it's impossible" if he was calling him by his real name, that meant something was going wrong. Or maybe he just wasn't in the mood to call him "Otacon"; they had never been so down.  
  
"Snake . . . " Otacon's eyes were reprobating, as he turned from working on his PC, maybe he was reprobating his attitude, maybe to the fact that he had not shaved in half a week, maybe it was just he was just a frustrated as Snake was. "We made a promise to Olga, remember?"  
  
"I know . . . It's just. . . " Snake never doubted what he was going to say. He was always straight-forward, Otacon dared to say cruel. "It isn't as easy as I though it would be. I told Raiden not to worry, but fuck . . ."  
  
"Snake, we all have ups and downs . . ."  
  
"Lately, all we had is downs. Face it, Otacon." Snake said. Otacon didn't seem to want to listen; he turned again to the PC. Snake turned around. He had been living in Hal's apartment since he found a bug (hidden below his phone) in his old home. It wasn't safe anymore. "We are fucked. Help isn't coming down from the sky"  
  
Looking around, the rust in the walls seemed to grin, everything was so degraded it felt like the place was about to fall apart. Otacon had not called any exterminator in months, fearing they didn't kill bugs, but plant them, so it wasn't quite a surprise to see a cockroach every now and then.  
  
"Are you giving up, Snake?" Otacon's eyes seemed disappointed again. Just looking at him in the face made you feel guilty of things you didn't even do.  
  
"No, I'm not. But I just wanted to say that we need to search for the intelligence, not wait for it. We need to be more aggressive, Hal."  
  
"Wait . . ." Hal interrupted, raising his hand and turning to the PC.  
  
"E-Mail? If it's spam, I'll shoot that thing." Snake seemed in the border of a psychopathic seizure.  
  
"No . . . Snake, this E-Mail . . . Roy Campbell?"  
  
"Colonel . . ." Snake's voice exhaled demons, remembering traumatic past events and unfinished business.  
  
"Wasn't him an AI?"  
  
"It was just an imitation . . ." Snake said, more to himself than to Otacon. "Open it up."  
  
"Ok, here it goes."  
  
"SNAKE,  
  
I wish I could tell this to you in person, but my current situation doesn't allow me more ways of communication than this . . . I know that your friend was fooled using my image, but the Patriots have made a deal with me . . . Snake, I know this may sound insane, but I have something to tell you. You have to come. Meet me at the Verrazano Bridge.  
  
Your good friend, Roy."  
  
"The bastard is still obsessed with being my friend." Snake said, while taking a Lucky Striker out his box, and looking for a match in the mess of Otacon's desk.  
  
"Look! There's an Image file attached. Want me to open it?" Otacon asked, curiously.  
  
"Hmmph" He responded grunting, with the not yet lit cigarette in his mouth.  
  
The image appeared on screen. The photo showed the usual military unit photography, all posing in front of a camera. Behind the soldier's back it showed a large military field, with several white buildings around them. The faces weren't familiar to Snake. They were all young, wearing some sort of black BDU, but they did have some resemblances to people he knew. A large guy in the back, like Vulcan Raven, was holding an F249 machinegun with a single arm and upwards, not task for usual men.  
  
Otacon's eyes caught another of these soldiers, a sniper posing in a confident stance in the left area of the frame, holding a sniper rifle upwards, and like all, a black uniform. But he looked like . . . The same piercing eyes, the wavy blond hair.  
  
"Who are these people?" They both ask each other. Otacon asked louder, so Snake decided to answer.  
  
"I don't know, but I have the feeling we are going to find out . . ." Snake said, getting up and going to get his jacket.  
  
"So, are we going?" Otacon asked, standing himself.  
  
"Otacon, this is our only lead. Campbell knows something, and I think the Patriots released him. Why? I don't know. But I'll ask."  
  
"Suit yourself."  
  
-- -- --  
  
The faces still rose every time Snake closed his eyes, their eyes staring at him. What was all that about? Who were they? Now he was walking, next to Otacon, in the pedestrian walkway at the side of the bridge. It wasn't raining, but seeing the George Washington Bridge in the distance reminded him of two years before, the Tanker incident.  
  
Now, all that was behind. He would try to push it at the back of his mind, but like all his missions; they stayed there, in his mind, playing tricks on him, making him suffer. There was a feeling of moisture in the air, and the wind grabbed his arm with its cold fingers, not a pretty feeling.  
  
But, liked it or not, he was there, there'd be no magic way out of that, and well . . . In the distance, through the fog and the dark, three figures stood, and Snake and Otacon knew that was their company. They accelerated the march, and walked to them, standing, without letting themselves lose.  
  
The one in the middle turned to see them; an old man, a mixture of scars and wrinkles across his face, and his eyes were losing color; Colonel Roy Campbell had seen better days. He still kept himself in shape, and looked pretty threatening for a man in his 60's.  
  
"Snake . . . I knew you'd come."  
  
"What's all this about, Colonel?" Snake asked, violently and straight to the point, as Campbell's escorts (wearing Ski Masks) turned to face him. Through the masks, Otacon could see the professionalism, the lack of soul.  
  
"Snake, I've been granted the honor, of informing that you have been recruited."  
  
"By the Patriots? Forget it! I'm not their puppet anymore!"  
  
"No; the US Government."  
  
"C'mon, Colonel, both of us know that there's no such thing."  
  
"A day or two days ago I would have agreed with you." Campbell informed, showing a bit of a smile, letting Snake know he was not an enemy. "Remember the Arsenal Gear crash a few months ago?"  
  
"How could I not? I almost drowned trying to get to Liquid . . . Seems he outran me with his RAY." Snake also wanted to show friendship to Campbell. He preferred a joke, much more informal. "What about it?" Snake's voice became grim and determined again.  
  
"Ha! Well, Snake, the word is spreading. The GW plan was screwed, and someone within the government filtered out some information. The Patriot's security is at risk. That's why the decisions have been given to the puppets now, at least until the La-Li-Lu-Le-Lo figure out how to deal with those rumors."  
  
"Unbelievable" Snake said, checking on Otacon, who, like Campbell's escorts, hanged off in the background.  
  
"Yes . . . We believe this moment of weakness will open the gates to new threats." Campbell detected the look on Snake's face. "Snake, we can't keep sending one-man armies every time a Next Generation Terrorism threat appears."  
  
"And that's why you called me. Why?"  
  
"Snake, do you remember what happened to all the future operations planned for FOX-HOUND after the Shadow Moses incident?"  
  
"They were given to the Delta Force and Navy SEAL, I believe."  
  
"Snake, do you seriously believe the government is going to send regulars like the Delta Force to do wet works of that kind? Snake, that's why I want you to come with us."  
  
"You want to rebuild FOXHOUND with me?" Snake asked, violently.  
  
"No Snake, you got me wrong. FOX-HOUND had been trained in Irregular warfare. However, we then had to face this new wave of Next Generation Terrorism, and we need a team specifically trained to handle it. A unit capable of both irregular warfare and counterterrorism tactics."  
  
"And why do you want me? Don't you have fresh recruits from the USSOCOM?"  
  
"Snake, we are trying to recreate FOX-HOUND here. Up to a genetic equality, even."  
  
"If you want my genes, get in line." Snake was clearly unimpressed by Campbell.  
  
"Snake, we don't want your genes. We want you. We are trying to get to a genetic similarity with FOXHOUND and DEAD-CELL."  
  
"A search like that could take years." Snake said, and Campbell nodded back.  
  
"Yes . . . Unless you have a lead. We have been searching for carriers of the same soldier genes. Blood relatives, Snake."  
  
"You got to be kidding."  
  
"There's no international law that keeps us from doing that."  
  
"And let me guess. I'm brother of both Liquid and Solidus Snake, so I have been chosen to be the leader."  
  
"Pretty much."  
  
"I refuse."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Colonel, I don't want to be a puppet. I don't want to think you are telling the truth so you can stab me in the back. Do you really think I believe you, after all that's happened? How do I know you are not a lackey for the Patriots?" Snake asked, increasingly upset, yet Campbell seemed to whisper.  
  
"Want a proof, Snake? If I brought you to the base, you'd be one step closer to find the Patriots. Do you really think they want that? When unfound, they are invincible. But if detected" Campbell nodded. "They are vulnerable." Snake was tempted by the phrase "One step closer to find".  
  
"OK . . ." Snake reconsidered. He would be one step closer to find Olga's child, after all. "How much to wait until we find those blood relatives?"  
  
"No time, Snake. They are all waiting in the base."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"I'm not in liberty to discuss that. You'll be told soon, I promise."  
  
". . ."  
  
"Trust me, Snake! I'm just a figurehead here!"  
  
"How many times have I heard you say that?"  
  
Campbell shrugged. Many times. He wasn't exactly lying, but it was always a part of a large network of lies. Usually, to drive Snake to do something he wouldn't otherwise do.  
  
"Snake, I'm sorry. For everything. I really am. But this has no point. If you don't come, you'll spend the rest of your days searching a way to crack the Patriot's security. If you come, I'll promise you'll have your reward."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"I know you lost track of Liquid Snake. The GPS transmitter was killed by an EMP attached to RAY."  
  
"And?"  
  
"Snake, ECLIPSE's mission is to counter Next-Gen terrorist threats. Wouldn't that include your brother? Just imagine being able to hunt down Liquid with Patriot resources!" Campbell explained, ignoring the rain.  
  
"I don't have much to lose, do I?" Snake asked.  
  
"No, Snake. Trust me. Come with us. A truck is waiting for us on the mainland area of New York."  
  
"Let's go."  
  
-- -- --  
  
Neither Snake or Otacon could explain in basic terms what drove them to accept. They were now within a black van, Campbell and his two Gorillas watching them. Snake decided that he would get in. Why not? Maybe Philanthropy could return to its former objective; The destruction of Metal Gear and the plans of those who used them.  
  
The atmosphere was dark. Only one red light in the ceiling allowed to see the faces, swollen by the cold. Otacon was sleeping, and Campbell's men were again pretending they were deaf and keeping Snake from doing anything stupid. Did they really doubt the legend's self-control so much?  
  
"Tell me about them." Snake said, sharply.  
  
"About who, Snake?" Campbell asked. But he knew the answer.  
  
"ECLIPSE."  
  
Campbell's eyes went half closed. "We found one relative of each of the terrorists of Shadow Moses and Big Shell. The search was mainly about leads, interviews and psychological analysis of the terrorists. A real adventure."  
  
"Are they trained?"  
  
"They have undergone basic Light Infantry warfare concepts, and full Counter Terrorism manual. Each has had a basic overlook of their relative's specialties. Right now, they are doing exercises to keep in good shape until your arrival."  
  
"And then?"  
  
"You'll become active director and will decide about training and weapons."  
  
"Could you tell me more about them?"  
  
"What if you meet them?" Campbell answered. "You'll get there with your advisors. We'll pick up one, and other two are expecting you at base."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes. I asked you to bring Dr. Emmerich because we think he might be your CTHA"  
  
"CTHA?"  
  
"Chief Technical Advisor. He'll brief you on equipment, communications and hacking."  
  
"Pretty much what he did for me back in Philanthropy."  
  
"Yes. The one we are picking up is a one . . ." Campbell checked the list. "William Sharp. He's a Colonel with the National Security Agency. I heard he's an expert in unofficial warfare and intelligence gathering. He'll be your acting CSA. We're picking him up soon."  
  
"Chief Strategic Advisor, huh?"  
  
"Yes. The other ones are CTA (Chief Tactical Advisor) and CPA (Chief Psychological advisor.)"  
  
"Any other?"  
  
"We'll later choose your CMA (Chief Medical Advisor), CWA (Chief Weaponry Advisor), and CIntA (Chief Intelligence Advisor). Not too soon, but after your first mission you should have acting officers."  
  
"Where are we going?" Snake asked.  
  
"I told you. First we pick up Sharp. Then, we'll head directly into the ECLIPSE team Headquarters."  
  
Snake seemed to drop, It was late, and his eyes started to close. The tension kept him up, he knew he couldn't sleep, but the sensation was too powerful. He was genetically engineered, how could he feel so weak? He started to fall asleep, but Snake's mind was unnaturally awakened. Before closing at the mysterious Narcolepsy, he noticed why.  
  
He had a Tranquilizer dart sticking from his stomach, and one of Campbell's men had fired his weapon, an M9-T. Seemed the model became very popular after the USS Discovery incident. That was his last thought as he fell into the lands of evil his nightmares were.  
  
-- -- -- -- -- --  
  
Author's note: Liked it? Tell me if you want the next chapters remade, and I'll obey. I'll answer a review I got, and I couldn't respond due to it's "anonymous" nature::  
  
What you said about the disorganization is partly true. Special Forces are all about synchrony. However, in real life, Spec Ops practice much more improvisation than originally planned. Besides, ECLIPSE isn't your average Spec Ops unit, is it?  
  
About the RPG7, it is true. I only found out after the chapter was uploaded. I'm extremely sorry for the mistake. However, it isn't impossible for an RPG to take down a helicopter. Watch "Black Hawk Down" if you don't believe me.  
  
M16. I forgot to say they were M16A2. I again apologize.  
  
The G3/SG-1. You said it was smaller, but not small. I never said it was small. I just said "small enough to carry around". About the rifles you recommended, I don't like neither of them. I'm trying to give ECLIPSE a stylish look, and the WA2000 is the most horrible gun I have ever seen. I still appreciate the recommendations.  
  
Have anymore mistakes of mine? Ask away! If you want an effective  
response, ask through my E-Mail pablonasociudad.com.ar.  
  
And please, I'd really thank longer reviews. I try to improve, and your  
criticisms help. Besides, I want to know each of your favorite character. 


	2. Chapter 1: New Friendships

Disclaimer: Geez. That Dart left me dizzy. Yeah yeah, this game is owned by Hideo Kojima and Konami, and I belong to. ..Drew Barrymore.  
  
CHAPTER ONE: NEW FRIENDSHIPS  
  
By the time Snake realized, he was on a chopper. A UH-60K Black Hawk to be exact. It was night outside, but in a couple of hours the sun would be shining over the field. He was sitting in that chopper, full of people. He was now a boss.  
  
He wondered why he did it. Maybe he wanted to escape from being a target all his life. Otacon agreed. He was chosen to be the Chief Technological Advisor (CTCA) of Eclipse. Campbell wasn't there. Maybe the patriots got him, maybe not.  
  
Snake looked around. There were at least six people there. Snake, looking around, looked at one of them in one side of the chopper. He wanted to know his "Crew".  
  
The man was tall, with brown hair and brown eyes. He was in military clothing, just like Snake. Everything happened very fast, the two hours that happened between his conversation with Campbell, and that moment seemed like 15 minutes.  
  
"Hey!" Snake called him. He turned to Snake.  
  
"Oh! Solid Snake! Nice to meet you, commander!"  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"Me? Eh.." The guy was either shy or a pretty lousy spy. "My name is William Sharp; I'm your Chief Strategical Advisor. (CSA)" And he and Snake made a handshake.  
  
"Where were you before Eclipse?"  
  
"Fox-Hound. Eclipse is a sub division of Fox-Hound, you know."  
  
"Yeah.." He retrieved his hand. "What you think about this Eclipse?"  
  
"It's sick. First, they grab those boys, and tell them about Shadow Moses or the Big Shell incident. Then they press them to train with them. The guys lose their familiars and are then pressed to replace them. It's sick."  
  
"Aha. Do you know anyone?"  
  
"None." He paused. "Who's your buddy?"  
  
"Dr. Hal Emmerich. Our CTCA." Snake explained. "And who's the pilot?"  
  
A voice came from the pilot seat.  
  
"Me, Snake" A known, familiar face came out of the seat. He hadn't seen that face since 1999.  
  
"Charlie?!?!?" Snake was shocked. "What the fuck are you doing here?"  
  
"Just doin' my job. I'm gonna be your ride. How were things with Holly?"  
  
"Do I look like a married man?" Snake joked back.  
  
"Charlie, who are the rest?"  
  
"Staff crew. Your two advisors are with ya'. We'll meet your Chief Tactical Advisor (CTA) and Chief Psychological Advisor (CPA) at base."  
  
2 HOURS LATER.  
  
The landing in the Eclipse Team Head Quarters (ETHQ) was safe it was on place, and on time. The doors opened, and Snake, Otacon, and William went out. The place wasn't big, it was enormous. Snake could smell the Country Side sent. The whole base was a lot of buildings surrounding a field of grass. The trio advanced, and could see now (Between the fogs) three figures.  
  
One of them was blonde, with blue eyes, and skinny. Snake recognized him immediately.  
  
"Raiden?"  
  
"Jack Sears, you CTA (Chief Tactical Advisor)"  
  
"No way." Snake looked confused at Raiden. Otacon and William looked silent behind him.  
  
Another one was a short, kind of old man, almost bald, and with glasses.  
  
"Hello Commander." He said, he sounded British. "My name is Charles Hanson. I'll be Eclipse's CPA. (Chief Psychological Advisor)"  
  
"How many Advisors do I have?"  
  
"Four," Hanson explained. "Technological, Strategical, Tactical and Psychological."  
  
"I'll be your guise in the tour." Raiden said with a smile. Follow me to the Personnel Building. I'll introduce you to the eclipse team.  
  
Raiden acted as "The tour guy" to Snake. Snake didn't understand how this entire operation was done. But then he remembered that he had just become a pawn of the patriots.  
  
"So, tell me, Raiden, how they got you into this?" He asked while they were walking towards the personnel building.  
  
"It's.. I'm not supposed to talk about it."  
  
"I see."  
  
The building was old, Grey with "Personnel" written in black. Right in front to it, a woman was waiting.  
  
"Snake," Raiden called the commander's attention. "Let me introduce you to your Second-In-Command. She's Sub Commander Katya Monroe."  
  
"Welcome aboard Commander" She said, she didn't speak much, see seemed sad, her black eyes were half closed. "Go inside." She looked hardly at Otacon and Raiden, who also went in.  
  
Inside, the place was like a barrack. Between the beds, six men and women formed up.  
  
"Ok, Snake. This is the core of your Squad. The Assault shooters. First off, you have Sergeant Joshua Machuttes, Vulcan Raven's BR (Blood Relative)." A large, bald, man was standing. Snake and he greeted each other.  
  
"Then, Private Nadia Slonoskvo. Psycho Mantis's BR." A young, Russian lady, with long black hair was there.  
  
"Private Sean Rodriguez. Decoy octopus's BR." Rodriguez? Snake wondered. Latin name. Weird. The man looked Latin.  
  
"And finally, Private John R. Dolph." Dolph? Could that be Fortune's blood relative? "Fortune's BR."  
  
"Those are the Assault Shooters. Then we've got our bomb disposal guy, and explosives specialist, Corporal Robert Bogart, Fat man's BR." The guy was not fat, just a bit. Out of size. Bald too.  
  
"And what kind of Counter Terrorist team is done without Snipers? First, Sergeant First Elijah Slervansk, Sniper Wolf's BR." Snake looked at the blond haired man, in a BDU and with a Sniper Rifle hanging of his shoulder.  
  
"And since CT snipers work in pairs, this is his mate, Nikolai "Nick" Amerstraus. Vamp's BR." The other one was pale, with black hair.  
  
Raiden after presenting the team turned to Snake. "I'll leave you here to talk with them. Tomorrow we'll choose our standard weapons, and have our first real-life exercise. Congratulations, Snake. You have just become Eclipse Six. Six, in the military language, six means Commander."  
  
Raiden left, and Otacon looked at the group. He sat right next to Snake, as Snake looked at him.  
  
"Otacon, I'll go meet the Assault Shooters. Go with the Snipers and the Bomb Disposal Guys."  
  
Otacon walked towards the trio. He wasn't good at meeting people. Both Snipers were talking in a table.  
  
"Err. Hello, my name is Hal Emmerich."  
  
"What you want?" Nikolai Amerstraus asked, violently. He had a deep voice, with a weird accent.  
  
"A little respect, asshole!" Elijah Slervansk shouted at Nikolai. "Sir, I'm Elijah Slervansk, Sir" He gave Otacon a handshake. His voice had. Like Arabic accent, but very slight, he pretty much talked like an American.  
  
"No need of calling me sir."  
  
"Yes, Dr." Slervansk quickly corrected himself.  
  
"Hey, I'm gonna be your boss, but I would like to be your friend." Otacon said.  
  
"Me? Friend of you?" Nikolai asked.  
  
"Shut up!" Slervansk shouted at Nikolai. "Excuse my partner, Mr. ."  
  
"My name is Hal, but my friends call me Otacon."  
  
"Oh, yes Otacon."  
  
"Otacon. What a stupid name!" Nikolai assured.  
  
"Nikolai, you either shut the hell up, or I will ." He paused "or you go with Robert."  
  
"Great." He left. Otacon sat down on his place.  
  
"What's wrong with that guy?"  
  
"Nothing. He's just a bit shy, Otacon."  
  
"Heard in the briefing you were. You know.." Otacon was feeling a bit harassed.  
  
"You mean Sniper Wolf's brother?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You can say so." he glanced at the clock. "Hey, I'm going to the shooting practice, and fire a couple of PSG1 magazines. Tomorrow we've got an exercise, and I want to be at the top of my game. See ya'."  
  
Otacon watched him go.  
  
---  
  
Snake was talking with the Assault Shooters, all very different.  
  
"OK, tomorrow I have to pick the weapons of this unit. With which weapons have you been shooting lately?"  
  
Sean Rodriguez was the first one to talk. "Well, we shot a couple of MP5A4 9mm's, it's the weapon we are best. We shot some M4A1's and G36K's, and some Beretta M92FS handguns too. We shot a FA-MAS once, and a L85A2. We did a bit better with the L85."  
  
"Great. I'll consider them." Snake started feeling like a leader. "Again, I want to meet you one by one. Tomorrow morning. Tell your friends. Break lines"  
  
"Yes sir!" 


	3. Chapter 2: Troopers N' Guns

Disclaimer: Hideo made some characters, I did others, OK?  
  
CHAPTER 2: TROOPERS N' GUNS  
  
Snake was checking some papers. Mostly, records of his new unit, files, etc. Analyzing those wasn't very important, but right now Snake was feeling like a real "Six". Campbell must have felt like this.  
  
Snake's age was starting to show? He was now confined to be a director? No, he would take place in infiltrations and combat, from what he remembered.  
  
He was commanding relatives of his enemies? It was a Shakespearian sort of thing. People he killed, had families? And these families ended up under his command? Tough luck, he thought. It was interesting to know these guys, or at least sort of.  
  
"Knock" The door sounded twice.  
  
"Come in." Snake barked.  
  
Raiden went in, still in uniform. His blond hair was shorter, and he quickly sat in front of Snake's desk.  
  
"So, how does it feel like?"  
  
"Good. For now. I wasn't explained, but what is Eclipse's mission,"  
  
"Well, we are a Counter-Terrorism unit, specifically prepared against Next Generation Terrorist Threats."  
  
"I see. What do you think of these guys, as in their skill?"  
  
"They are simply, the best. Both Snipers are genius shooters, so are the Assault Shooters." Raiden explained.  
  
"Ok. Do you think they will try to retaliate against me for. You know. Shadow Moses?" Snake was more that bothered for that matter.  
  
"I've been with the Dead Cell BR's for two weeks and I wasn't murdered. But you should ask, Dr. Hanson, the unit's Psychologist." Raiden said.  
  
"Do you know this woman, Sub Commander Monroe. I didn't find her file."  
  
"She just got here. No idea who's BR she is, but she doesn't talk about it much."  
  
"OK, I don't want to invade her privacy." Snake said, as he lit up a cigarette. "By the way, how's Otacon doing?"  
  
"I saw him with Sergeant Slervansk."  
  
"So, what kind of guy is this Slervansk?"  
  
"Our best shooter, Sniper Wolf's BR, I think he was with the Kurdish rebels during the 2003 gulf conflict, took part in a couple of serious green beret ops in Northern Iraq and Baghdad." Raiden stopped for a second. "Nice guy." He complemented.  
  
"What 'bout the other one?"  
  
"You mean Nikolai? Vamp´s BR? Good player. Kinda picky with his shooting partners."  
  
"Well, Slervansk isn't rookie either." Snake took a puff out of his cigarette.  
  
"Yeah. Top record on VR sniping, at least in time. Neither of them seem bad guys, but "  
  
He stopped.  
  
"You wouldn't show 'em your back" Snake smiled.  
  
"Pretty much."  
  
"Gotcha. So, what weapons are we choosing?"  
  
"OK, we need a low caliber pistol, a high caliber pistol, a sub-machinegun, an Assault Rifle, and a Light Machinegun." Raiden explained. He looked way tougher now, he spoke more naturally about the business.  
  
Snake thought for a second. "Well, the Beretta M92F is out of question for low caliber. SOCOM for high caliber. What you think for SMG's?"  
  
"MP5 is quite popular. .And easy to get. I got a thing for Heckler & Koch stuff, you know." Raiden grinned, as Snake putted down his cigarette.  
  
"I see. M4A1's for Assault Rifles?" Snake asked.  
  
"I don't know. G36's are good too. Any ideas for Bullpup rifles?"  
  
"FAMAS?" Snake sunk into his chair. "Brings me bad memories. Steyr AUG?"  
  
"Your choice" Raiden said.  
  
"G36K then. Do we have access to 5,56 x 45mm NATO rounds?"  
  
"You want it, you got it" Raiden threw himself to the back of the chair. "One of the advantages of the Counter-Terrorism business. You can shoot bastards with what you got."  
  
"Great."  
  
---  
  
The shooting gallery was set. The bunches of soldiers were hanging there.  
  
"Hey, ya', Rodriguez!" Machuttes called. "What if we unload some rounds?" The bulky man said. They were all on military personnel uniforms, and berets. He was laid on a chair, next to the pistol range, while the rest were standing around him in a threatening way.  
  
"Ok, Elijah, Nadia, Your in?"  
  
"Always a pleasure to beat a Yankee" The Russian private said.  
  
"Elijah?"  
  
"I just can't refuse showing you a lesson" The sharpshooter laughed. "Why would that be?"  
  
"You still owe me five bucks, Master Sergeant" Joshua stood up.  
  
"Ok, so we are gonna shoot with what?" Rodriguez. A Latin tall man smiled at his three comrades.  
  
"Pistols, like real men" Sergeant Slervansk made a funny voice while saying it, resembling a drill sergeant.  
  
"Sarge, I expected you to learn and return with your accuracy rifles"  
  
"Some people just never learn" Nadia laughed. "So, nine millimeters?"  
  
"OK" Machuttes said, with a huge smile. "Everyone pick your guns!"  
  
"Browning, chico listo" Laughed Sean Rodriguez.  
  
"Sig Sauer is good for me" Nadia went to get them. How bout ya', Sarges?  
  
"Glock C17 for me" Machuttes said with a loud voice.  
  
"Weird. A big guy with a polymer gun" Rodriguez joked.  
  
"Hey, I was going for Desert Eagle, but ya guys are afraid of the good old' .50"  
  
"M9 Beretta for me!" "Sarge" Slervansk said. "Elite version if possible" Their guns were on the table, in front of them, eight shooting ranges. They were only going to use four, anyways.  
  
Four guns cocked 15 rounds in each's magazine.  
  
"Here we go!" Nadia shouted out.  
  
"That's odd, Elijah" Josh made a scary voice. "You're going for Beretta?"  
  
"It reminds me of my teachers, the Men and Women of the US Special Operation Forces."  
  
"Green Berets" Joshua mocked. "They think they are so tough."  
  
The targets were ready, and all four guns fired almost simultaneously.  
  
---  
  
"Lemme tell ya' " Corporal Bogart called everyone, holding a glass of water. "I can bet ya that "exercise" tonight will be another cheapo "Non- Existing-Terrorists-Run-Of-The-Mill-Exercise" just with "the legend" watching us."  
  
"Not so simple." John R. Dolph said, sitting in his char, at the white dinner table. "Likely we will have real life procedure, maybe even with FOX- HOUND recruits playing terrorists"  
  
"I can bet they'll do their role well." Corporal "Nick" was in a really uncomfortable seat, but he didn't care, actually.  
  
"The "Legend". Remind me; didn't any of the FOX-HOUND BR's tried to kill him or anything?" Bogart asked, looking at both his partners.  
  
"The privates weren't even able to know it was him so no. Sergeant First Machuttes and Master Sergeant Slervansk worry me the most." Dolph recalled. "They were fully briefed on Shadow Moses Island incidents."  
  
"I don't know shit bout' Machuttes, but Slervansk ." Nick thought for a second. "He's just not the killer kinda' guy."  
  
"Go figure." Dolph leaned towards the table. "I shot some rounds with Sgt Machuttes, he's no violent person, just."  
  
"Misunderstood?" Bogart grinned.  
  
"Well."  
  
"Listen, we're having the exercise in a couple of hours, we should be training with our Weapons, you know." "Let's hit the range. The FOX BR's are still in there, but they'll leave soon."  
  
---  
  
The lights were out. The training building was ready: Hours of preparation, setting wooden doors, fake walls, a cardboard battlefield. It simulated a three story abandoned estate. Three entrances. Twelve Neo-FOX-HOUND reserves playing terrorists. Pellet guns. Tons of cameras. A cardboard, combat Reality Show set. An Eclipse exercise. "Hello everybody" Snake was dressed as a commander. He felt like Roy Campbell, watching eight Eclipse Agents from seats. "This is my first exercise with you, and I really would like to give you a word. But I'll give you briefing" A few chuckles, likely Private Rodriguez.  
  
"You have a three story training structure. With the three entrances: The front door, the rooftop, and the sewers. An entry from the front might end up in carnage from both sides. From the rooftop, we will have to throw ourselves from a helicopter, and the sewers might be locked. I'll send teams of two through each entry. You will enter and rescue two hostages. Rodriguez and Slonoskvo, take the front door. Bogart and Monroe take the sewers. Dolph and Machuttes will hit the rooftop. As always, Slervansk will be the Sharpshooter and Amerstraus will be his observer. In the whole exercise we will be using new Maximum Stopping Power-Minimal Penetration pellets fired from both teams. We will be using Kevlar protection and combat gear to protect yourselves from the enemy fire: They won't hurt you, but certainly knock you off your feet. Our Strategical Advisor, William Sharp, will be the referee for both teams. Also, for explosives, we will be using low power Semtex, it won't kill you, if you stick to protection. We'll be using MP5 Sub-Machine-Guns for the Assault Shooters, except for Bogart and Machuttes, who will be using SPAS-12 shotguns. The Snipers are going to carry MSG-90A1 Rifles, all using MSP-MP pellets, besides Beretta M92FS handguns. We think FOX-HOUND reserves will be packing AK-47's and G3A3 rifles, mostly, but be on the lookout. " One hour later, an UH-60K helicopter and a truck were heading to the training structure. FOX-HOUND reserves were waiting for them already in position.  
  
---  
  
"This is Sub-Commander Monroe. Sewer team, in position." She announced. Bob Bogart was walking behind her. Both of them had their weapons raised. The sewers were pitch black, illuminated by the Flash-Lights under their gun's barrel. Their uniforms were black too, both under 2 kilos of Kevlar Armor, and with protection Goggles. Red dots were in the middle of the light of the Flash-Lights: Laser Pointers.  
  
"Wait." The Sub-Commander ordered. "Command, this is sewer team. The entry is blocked. Requesting authorization to demolish it."  
  
"Wait!" Snake ordered from the radio. His Black Hawk Helicopter was hovering in circles, watching the Training Facility. He was sitting right in the cargo area of the helicopter, next to Elijah Slervansk, who was pointing his MSG-90 to the rooftop, waiting for an unsuspecting FOX-HOUND reserve rookie to knock him off with a training pellet. He was practically frozen. Only his spiky blonde hair moved with the helicopter. A FOX-HOUND rookie entered the rooftop, with a radio on his hand. ".If you blow it up, you are going to blow your cover: Stealth is a vital part of the sewer plan. Wait there. " --- The wooden front door was just in the middle of the Training Facility, known between the Eclipse Agents as "The Wooden Fortress". A Nomex-Covered hand touched the handle.  
  
"Closed" Rodriguez announced.  
  
"Shit" Snake shouted at the radio. "It's like a fucking fortress. The Sewer entranced is closed, the main entry too, and there's an armed guard watching the rooftop." Snake paused for a second. "..Wait. Bogart, head the main entrance. Monroe, watch the sewer, the tangos may try escaping there."  
  
"Affirmative" Monroe said, as he pointed at the entrance with her MP-5.  
  
"Roger Roger." Bogart said, and started running towards the entryway.  
  
---  
  
"OK, I'm here!" Bogart said, practically grunting, at Sean and Nadia, who were expecting him with their silenced MP5's pointed downwards. The Balaclava didn't allow him from recognizing him, but he was the only team member without a perfectly shaped body.  
  
"What you gonna do?" Rodriguez asked.  
  
"Blow it up!" Bogart said, as he holstered his shotgun and started placing the Semtex.  
  
"Check the windows for watchers!"  
  
Sean approached silently the window. his MP-5 was pressed close to his chest, his head, covered by a black balaclava, moved upwards. No tangos on- sight. Except for. A FOX-HOUNDER with an AK! His head quickly went down.  
  
"We have a bad guy!" Sean said, as he switched the safety off.  
  
"I'm almost finished" Robert started plugging the detonator.  
  
"You better get going" Nadia spoke silently. "Someone's coming." --- William Sharp had his headphones on, watching the action from a set of TV's in the Command Center.. His job was to analyze to combat and decided when a player was "Dead". Every helmet had a camera. He was interested in a FOX- HOUNDER's view. He was approaching the front door. --- "Huh?" The Foxhounder with an Ak-47 was closing to the door. "There's someone behind the door". "Must be nothing." His partner, holding an IMI UZI, was with his back against the wall, both suited in camo uniforms. "Check anyways"  
  
He approached the door.  
  
---  
  
"Ok, it's set!" Bogart warned, as he prepared his SPAS-12 and the detonator. "Get your SMG's ready" His partners were already prepared for the assault. "Now!"  
  
---  
  
The foxhounder was almost at the door. His steps sounded in the squeaky wooden floor.  
  
"Tic tic" Sounded behind the door. Could it be??  
  
A huge explosion sounded, his eyes looked like plates as he saw the wooden door be thrown away flying by the explosion, and his body was too. He fell the ground harshly, as William Sharp's voice sounded on the radio.  
  
"One dead! Foxhound 0, Eclipse 1!"  
  
His partner could barely see because of the smoke. Al he heard it was that one of his partners had lost, but. What the fuck was that shadow coming??  
  
---  
  
Bogart pointed his SPAS-12 towards the other player's head, and shot. Even thought the pellets couldn't kill, they certainly hurt. His enemy was screaming in pain, as he fell to the ground, playing dead.  
  
"Dead! Foxhound 0, Eclipse 2!" Will's voice sounded on the radio. --- One of the foxhounders heard the shooting. "What the hell was that?" He prepared his G-3. "Hey, Tango 6!" He called his partner. "There's a couple of Eclipses Down there! " "Let's go!" A smoker voice said. Both ran downstairs.  
  
---  
  
"Nadia! Rob! Watch your three!" Sean turned, and saw two camo soldiers with rifles. Nadia and Sean raised their MP-5's. Red dots were visible on their torsos. They pulled the triggers. Nadia's shots landed on the left soldier's chest, while Sean's impacted on the right's stomach.  
  
"Two dead!" Sharp barked.  
  
--- "OK, Entry team! Great shooting!" Snake said across the radio.  
  
"Boss" Amerstraus called. "I think our pal just saw us." He was right: The foxhounder was staring at the black chopper!  
  
"If he fires that AK, we're screwed" Charlie explained in a loud voice.  
  
"Shit! Elijah! Fire!"  
  
Sergeant Slervansk pointed his MSG-90 to the confused soldiers head. The soldier had an Italian flag on his arm. He calculated the bullet trajectory. And fired. A huge ball of fire appeared on the tip of the sniper rifle.  
  
The 7,62mm x 51mm pellet flew across the sky, hitting violently the foxhounder's helmet, and knocking him unconscious. Better than real bullets. He fell silently to the ground. Elijah feared the impact had killed him.  
  
"It's OK, his fine, but he will be considered dead on the exercise" William was reading a monitor, showing every soldier involving the exercise's vital signs. The soldier hit by Elijah, a former Italian NOCS, was alive, but unconscious.  
  
"Great shot! That poor bastard didn't even know what hit him!" Snake shouted! "Dolph! Machuttes! Jump!" Both grabbed their fast-ropes and jumped out of the helicopter. Both landed smoothly, with their Sub-machineguns and Shotguns ready for combat. They approached the stairs fast, as Charlie moved out.  
  
Both of them entered, and got spotted: Every nerve in Josh's body tensed as he heard the sound of a G3A3 Assault Rifle being fired, and fake pellets flying across the wooden stairs. Josh was frozen: he couldn't move, not even scream. John, instead started shouting and started firing his MP-5 like there was no tomorrow. For him, there wasn't.  
  
---  
  
Rodriguez, Bogart and Slonoskvo headed up stairs to the second floor, when they heard gunshots. Something odd was going on.  
  
"What the fuck is going on?" Bogart asked.  
  
"Who said that?" An unknown, distant voice answered. A Foxhounder. His eyes were blank, but he turned his AK down and simply pressed the trigger. All three took cover, but they were unable to fight back.  
  
---  
  
The pellets crushed into the "terrorist" 's arms and legs.  
  
"Dead!" Sharp shouted again. Josh recovered and both of them started running again. -They saw a terrorist, shooting his AK madly. Josh didn't doubt this time: He fired over three shots in over a second. The exercise player fell. They detected movement and raised their guns: Nothing, three of their partners, Rodriguez, Slonoskvo and Bogart joined them.  
  
"Josh, Johnny, what the hell's going on?" Bogart asked.  
  
"I don't know." Joshua answered automatically, since he was the most highly ranked officer there. "Search the floor."  
  
"Guys." A voice sounded through the radios. "This is commander Snake. You heard him. I have just detected three hostiles and a hostage heading the sewer escape way. Katya is covering it: But she won't hold on against three hostiles. Joshua, John, go take 'em out. The rest, search for the other hostage."  
  
The squad moved out.  
  
---  
  
"Hey! Guys!" Nadia was suing her Directional Microphone against a door. "There are three people there. One sounds scared. The others are strangely calmed."  
  
"Well." Bogart started thinking. "The scared one is a hostage. A good actor, by the way. The others must be foxhounders on Diazepam or something."  
  
"Let's go then" Rodriguez said, while cocking his MP-5. --- A foxhounder looked at his hostage. He was recruited by a counter-terrorist unit: Now he acted like a terrorist? It must be a "Get-into-the-bastards- shoes" kinda thing, he thought. Suddenly, he saw the door being violently opened. A flashbang. Then, a explosion, when he couldn't see or hear. Instead of white and a blast. --- Nadia started running into the room. She was scared, but she handled it pretty much like a man. Pretty much like Meryl Silverbourgh, according to Snake. She looked around, feeling everything in slow motion: Two confused terrorists. And a very scared hostage. She run towards him, and shot a quick burst against one of them:  
  
Missed, all three bullets impacted beside the confused foxhounder's head. Then Sean entered, pointing the MP-5 at the same "terrorist" 's head. The pellets made the sound of a baseball bat. He fell unconscious. The other one, shaking his head, returned to see things normally, only to see Robert Bogart entering and knocking him out with a kind of rubber baton shot from a shotgun.  
  
"Sir, hostage secured." --- Machuttes and Dolph saw them: Three foxhounders and a man wearing a white shirt, the hostage: "You too, keep em' busy! I'll move the hostage out!" The guy that looked like the leader shouted and started running, practically dragging the hostage. Both of the others opened fire blindly: The second later, both of them fell to the ground, with their faces bruised and falling in strange ways, but alive. But before they figured it out, the third one had escape through the sewer.  
  
"Fuck!" Dolph shouted out.  
  
---  
  
The terrorist had escaped with a hostage. Even though almost all his partners were eliminated, his team had practically won. He just had to reach the exit. Then, he noticed it: There was a woman pointing her MP-5 to his nose. And she fired. --- "Exercise over" Otacon announced to the squad members, all reunited at the exit of the "Wooden Fortress". "The other Foxhounders have left, seeing that they horribly lost the exercise" He remarked with a grin, "Fortunately, they are all OK. Most of them have bruises because of the pellets, and the guy Elijah shot in the head has a bad headache, but he'll be OK. The only one hurt is the last one, whom Katya shot point-blank and has his nose broken. But he'll be fine, eventually. Other than that, we did well, especially the entry team, who acted very well, and Elijah, who made quite a remarkable shot in the rooftop. We'll have another exercise tomorrow morning, so take a bath, relax. You'll have your meeting with us in alphabetic order. Break lines."  
  
"Yes sir!"  
  
---  
  
Author's note: Long chapter, isn't it? I really enjoyed writing, but it's hellishly tiring. I will try to post more often; I'm having a real deal of action in school. 


	4. Chapter 3: Training Part 1

Disclaimer: I didn't create the characters, nor the game, nor SOME situations.  
  
CHAPTER 3: "TRAINING"  
  
"Come in" Snake ordered. The door opened. The tall man entered, with his light brownish hair sticking up.  
  
"Sir." Bill Sharp went in, with his officer suit in perfect state. His brown eyes were almost all the time half closed. He stumbled in, Snake could notice he walked perfectly, even when he was relaxing he moved like if he was being watched by a Instructor Sergeant. "May I have a word with you?"  
  
Snake raised an eyebrow. "Sure. Take sit."  
  
"Commander, " Bill talked in a humble way while he began to sit in front of Snake's desk. "I've noticed" He paused again. "this squad is formed up with the relatives of the people behind the two most destructive terrorist attacks in the history of fucking mankind."  
  
Snake wanted to correct him by telling him of The Patriots, but he then remembered. The place was fucking bugged. "So? Those guys. they don't seem dangerous" Snake looked to his sides, and leaned towards William. "I had a son of a bitch right next to me holding a High Power Sniper Rifle, whom I shot his sister in the head with fucking .45! The poor bastard didn't even look at me! They are harmless!"  
  
"Tell that to the Foxhounders." Bill mocked. "The point is this guys are fucking pros. The "Son of a bitch" you had next to ya was goddamn CIA trained Peshmerga. He knows, and I bet his partners know, that they shouldn't attack when you are expecting it. Those shit-heads are going to blast your skull when they get the smallest chance."  
  
"Bill, here I thought you felt compassion for those guys" Snake asked.  
  
"Well, I'm just telling ya' you have to be careful. Later tonight, you are having interviews with that bunch of pricks. I just don't want the legend ending up with a 9mm slug on his face thanks to some traitorous bastard."  
  
"I'll be OK" Snake talked slowly. "I've blasted through some of those kids relatives."  
  
"Right. Sorry sir."  
  
"Knock, knock" The door sounded.  
  
"Well, I gotta go. Just be careful." Bill said as he got up and left. Dr. Hanson came in. He was small man, with a bit of a round shape and the same kind of glasses Otacon wore. His reddish hair was always short, and he walked way more dumbly than William.  
  
"Hey. Ur. Sir." Not matter how smart Dr. Hanson was, he absolutely the clumsy kind of guy. Sort of like Otacon four years before. He sort of lost that part of himself. In Shadow Moses.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
He touched quickly his digital watch. "Time to go." It was time to the interviews with his squad.  
  
The corridors of the HQ were long, and dark. Snake thought that it was crazy, he was director of a unit, and he didn't even know where he was. He now remembered why the trip was short between New York and that place. It had hit him when he saw one of his men, Sean Rodriguez, training with a modified version of the Beretta M92FS, an M9-T, designed to shoot neutralizing darts. He had been knocked unconscious, and he had woken up in that helicopter. Where?  
  
He didn't have the chance to speak with either Otacon or Raiden in private since the exercise along with Neo-Foxhound. He realized the drug that they gave him was very powerful: Otherwise he would have remembered what happened before. He couldn't even see the moment when he had eaten the dart, he only remembered falling knocked out (Probably after Otacon) in a very dark alley in Queens, and waking up in a military chopper.  
  
Another thing that disturbed him was Raiden's behavior. He was acting. Weird. It was very unlikely he had passed from a rookie to a weapons expert in a couple of months. He had grown through the Big Shell incident? Maybe yes, Maybe not. And what about his motivation? Didn't he hate the Patriots? Didn't he have a wife? Didn't have a child? One last thought crossed Snake's mind. Black-Mail.  
  
They walked slowly, taking their time, in a British style. It was in a perfect state, everything clean. Whenever he moved, he could saw a bunch of low rank staff personnel. He didn't really pay attention to them, but hell, Bill was right. He had to keep his eyes open. He remembered, The Patriots are out there.  
  
"So, I was never told, where are we?" Snake asked silently,.  
  
"In the command center, sir." Hanson responded confused.  
  
"I know, I mean, where, geographically?"  
  
Hanson looked sideways, suspiciously. "We are in Fort Meade, Maryland."  
  
Three word filled Snake's mind when he heard "Fort Meade": National Security Agency.  
  
"Fort Meade? We are in the NSA 's territory?" Stared at the psychologist.  
  
"Well, some years before, Fox-Hound had very close relations to CIA, you now. There fore, Eclipse, which has an Anti-Terrorist role, is highly supported by the National Security Counsel and the NSA. Besides, they are the ones which provide us with espionage equipment and they take care of our encoded communications. I don't know much more, You should ask our Technological Advisor, for that. "  
  
"Will do." Snake was lying. Everything was too perfect. No problems in the chain of command, Fishy attitudes, being so near the NSA headquarters, etc. He had to investigate. He had to find out what was going on. But he had to make time.  
  
"Dr, you talk to the privates later, may I have a word only with the officers?"  
  
"Bogart, Machuttes and Slervansk?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"I'll call em."  
  
---  
  
Otacon had a lot of work to do. He had just received a package (One of more than 3 tons, actually) from FOX-HOUND: A VR simulation system. It had been there for a while, but it would take an FOX-HOUND specialist to put it up and running, but an MIT graduate could operate it after reading the instructions. Otacon had.  
  
The system, which was basically a set of six chairs (that looked like the ones of the Dentists) with helmets on top, looked futuristic. There, the VR troopers would get in and enter. The seats were connected to a console, controlled by an operator, in this case him. The trick of being the operator is just check the enemy AI works. and that none of the brains of the troopers gets fried.  
  
In Otacon's opinion, Snake would enjoy seeing the Eclipse operatives blasting through their relatives in Shadow Moses or Big Shell simulations, which Otacon certainly wouldn't enjoy. The best excuse for doing such thing would be showing the kind of threats Eclipse would be engaging, but the Shadow Moses and Big Shell simulations would be great to experience the chaos and psychological mayhem Eclipse was ought to face. And destroy.  
  
OK. The VR system worked Ok, but they would probably test it tomorrow, probably in a Shadow Moses simulation. He had no idea how Snake was going to react about that. Of course, it had been the closest picture Snake and Otacon had to hell, and neither of them could determine which one was worse, and both of them sometimes thought they would never shake the memories, the nightmares away.  
  
---  
  
In a short walk that took them less than two minutes, Corporal Bob Bogart, Sergeant First Joshua Machuttes and Master Sergeant Elijah Slervansk, walk from the officer barracks to Dr. Hanson's office, conveniently near each other, since Hanson was, besides being the psychological advisor, he was also the troop's counselor. Joshua never actually considered going to the counselor, he wasn't the "emotional" kind of guy, and he had earned the "Shoot first, never ask questions" fame very quickly among the ranks.  
  
Bogart had been there a couple of times, he was very nervous at the beginning of the ride. He was one of the very few members of Eclipse with no military or Law Enforcement experience, and he wasn't enjoying much to be trained in Explosives "because of his genes", but, when the training began, it kind of wore off. It was scary, he enjoyed being the "Bomb disposal guy".  
  
And on his side, Elijah Slervansk was the exact opposite. He was one of the most experienced agents Eclipse had. He had one talk with Hanson, only because "Eli" wanted to "Have everything straight". He had always wanted to talk with all his superiors to know the system. Something all his former officers appreciated.  
  
Bogart knocked the door. Hanson appeared violently, opening. "Please guys, come in."  
  
The team entered, in a kind of small room, which was better illuminated than Snake's office, and had white walls, and a desk. Hanson's office. Bob and Josh only wore their uniforms, while Eli wore his Beret, showing he was an officer. Snake was sitting next to Hanson's chair.  
  
"How you doing, guys?" Snake asked smiling. The three operatives looked to each other confused. "Not used to friendly commandment, huh?" they didn't answer.  
  
Hanson sat down slowly. He was a man who had actually had the weight of the years on his back. "Bob, please, sit down. Eli, Josh, could you please leave?"  
  
"Sir, Ye." Hanson and Snake looked at them strangely, and the two soldiers took the hint. Both of them left.  
  
"So, what do you want from me?" Bob was jumpy, Snake could tell. He didn't like being called without knowing how. He remembered the last time that happened he was kidnapped by the NSA. And specially when the director was there.  
  
"Nothing, Bob." Hanson talked in a very smooth voice now. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"I'm" he said slowly. "Pissed. Why do you care?" His tone of voice jumped.  
  
"Because" Hanson and Snake looked at each other, looking for an effective answer. "Listen, this is gonna take a while. You just talk to him." Snake commented. He left the room, heading the hallway.  
  
Elijah and Josh were still waiting at the door.  
  
"Sergeant Machuttes, Master Sergeant Slervansk" Snake was looking at them in a strange way. "Follow me."  
  
Both officers looked at each other suspecting to see what was going to happen next. Curiosity, according to Joshua. Plain stupidity, according to Elijah.  
  
"Sir." Elijah had the courage to ask.  
  
"Master Sergeant?"  
  
"Sir! With all do respect, sir."  
  
"Cut the crap, Elijah. Remember. If something happens to me and to Sub- Commander Monroe, you'll be the director. As Third-in-Command, you have some authority yourself."  
  
The fact had hit the Kurd like a gunshot. He? Director? "Sir."  
  
"Take it easy. It's not easy, trust me. Listen up." The trio was silent for a second.  
  
"I don't like where this is going" Joshua said.  
  
"Listen. You guys follow me."  
  
"What about Dr. Hanson?" Elijah was being careful. He didn't like Snake calling them in secret, but he didn't like the idea of being the Sub- Assistant Director.  
  
"Bogart is a psychological cage of Pandora. He'll be there for ages."  
  
"What about the guards?"  
  
"They know shit about the plan of the day. They'll take anyone without PRIMACORD strapped to his chest." Snake joked. The couple of officers accepted.  
  
"What do you exactly want us to do?" Joshua walked faster, trying to reach Snake.  
  
"Just shut up." Snake commanded.  
  
Two guards, both armed with M16's, were waiting at a door Snake was taking them to. The door was made of glass, and the trio could see the white corridor following it.  
  
"Commander Snake." One of the grunts in guard uniform spoke quickly. Elijah looked at the soldier in a suspicious manner. Snake was up to something.  
  
The two soldiers checked the two sergeants behind Snake. One of them, quickly checking Joshua's holster, felt a gun. He took it out. A Colt Government M1911A1 .45 Caliber. He was one of the very few people who still used the American pistol as his Side-Arm. Elijah was checked too: He had a Beretta M92FS 9mm. The Kurdish agent felt naked without his Italian pistol.  
  
"No guns allowed" The grunt remarked, as he emptied the sniper's Beretta and kept the 9mm Parabellum magazine in his BDU. The trio kept on walking.  
  
The door opened automatically: Neither of the two Sergeants knew what was going on: Snake had taken them to a high security portion of the base. Joshua kept thinking: Why? What did Snake want to show them? What did he want to tell them? What the goddamn fuck was going on?  
  
Slervansk had even more paranoid thoughts: What if, Snake wanted to kill them? He would. He had the balls. He was now very disturbed without his M9. What if he wanted to get back to their relatives? They were dead, but Eli knew about that kind of guy. He used to be one of them. The enemies just would never be dead enough for them.  
  
They reached a door. Joshua looked around. Guards everywhere. All of them with M16 assault rifles and with black berets. At least six guards were patrolling that white, highly illuminated hall.  
  
The soldiers, all in shaved heads, looked at the trio. Joshua had a military-cut hair. Elijah had a spiky blond hair, something not regular among grunts, but then again, Eclipse agents weren't grunts. Even the director had a mullet.  
  
The door didn't open. They needed a Retinal scan. Snake moved his head nearer the Scanner, reading his brown eyes and opening the door.  
  
COMMANDER SOLID SNAKE : ACCESS GRANTED.  
  
SERGEANT JOSHUA MACHUTTES: ACESS GRANTED.  
  
MASTER SERGEANT ELIJAH SLERVANSK: ACCESS GRANTED:  
  
The female voice sounded in the Scanner's speakers. Snake couldn't help thinking about the woman reading and recording those messages. She probably was killed after it. She already knew the names and ranks of all Eclipse agents.  
  
The door opened, and the three men entered. Inside, Snake found four people. Three of them were FOX-HOUND or NSA specialists, the fourth one, The CTCA, Hal Emmerich. He turned around. Snake in front, Elijah to his left and Joshua to his right, were staring at the scientist.  
  
"Otacon, we need to talk."  
  
Otacon looked worried, and Snake looked around. Someone was installing a VR training equipment. He just couldn't wait to test that thing. He wondered if it was the same model Raiden had used. That would mean that the Patriots could manipulate him more easily. "Snake, I'm kind busy" he started saying, as he leaned to a desk and wrote something. "I have a lot of work to do, and I would be really thankful if we did it some other time." Otacon was acting. He showed Snake the thing he had written.  
  
THERE'S MICROPHONES IN THIS ROOM.  
  
Snake nodded, as his partners looked around, waiting for the two former PHILANTROPY agents to finish whatever they were doing. While Joshua looked around at the technicians putting everything in place, Elijah was focusing on Snake and Hal Emmerich.  
  
Hal Emmerich, graduate of the MIT, one of the top participants of the Shadow Moses Incident. Someone he had to keep an eye on. He had talked to him the first day Otacon and Snake joined Fort Meade, just to gain his trust. He very well knew this character Emmerich had something with his sister. Maybe that was the thing that made him look so non-trustworthy to Eli. But he wasn't sure.  
  
---  
  
"Hal, follow us." Snake ordered, and he met with the two soldiers. "He is Joshua Machuttes. The other guy is Elijah Slervansk, but I think you already know him. They will be our escort." The sergeants looked at each other in surprise.  
  
"Escort of what?" Joshua asked.  
  
"Just walk"  
  
---  
  
The six guards were still in place, this time, a seventh guard was waiting for them.  
  
"Soldier?" Snake asked.  
  
"Sir. Dr. Hanson sent me to look for you. He finished debriefing Corporal Bogart, and he was waiting for you. He started debriefing the rest of Eclipse."  
  
"I'm the director, soldier. As the top authority on this unit, I decide when I move and when I don't."  
  
"Sir, you don't leave me other choice. I have orders from the Director of the National Security Agency." The other grunts started surrounding the group. "You have limited access. Please, sir, come back and I won't report this to."  
  
"Kiss my ass." Snake retorted.  
  
"Sir." This time, the squad raised the M16's to the team.  
  
Snake smiled and nodded. Elijah and Joshua nodded too.  
  
In a flash, Joshua charged one of the grunts, as Elijah kicked other straight in the face. Otacon felt a horrible sensation in his stomach. Snake punched the leader in the nose, who flew back in the air like in those action films.  
  
All three guards were mumbling in the floor. The team looked up: Other four had their M16's trained on the commandos.  
  
"This can't be good."  
  
---  
  
The word between the other team mates was that Solid Snake had forced Machuttes and Slervansk to follow him to prohibited area of the base, and tried to make an illegal conversation with the Technological Advisor, and that he would probably be relieved from duty dishonorably.  
  
It wasn't a general theory on Joshua Machuttes and Elijah Slervansk 's behavior: Most people believed that Snake had forced them to knock out the two security guards. Others thought he had actually threatened them. That one wasn't popular: Snake, being a legend and all, couldn't threat those guys: Joshua could eat nails and ask for seconds, and Elijah wasn't far behind.  
  
Three hours later the incident was the very last thing in the ECLIPSE members minds. They were about to be thrown into their first long-term VR exercise.  
  
----  
  
Writer's note: Again I apologize for not posting in centuries. I'm trying to write very once in a while, but I'm also involved in another fic. Again, I'll try to post as much as possible. 


	5. Chapter 3: Training Part 2

Disclaimer: I didn't make these characters, especially when this place is called FAN fiction.  
  
CHAPTER 3: TRAINING (PART 2)  
  
The Commander of the Eclipse Team could just watch while the process began. Truth was Director Solid Snake was interested (But at the very same time terrified) of watching a small commando of four men and women infiltrating Shadow Moses island.  
  
The VR version of that small remote island in the Fox Archipelago was dead on: Every single detail perfectly reproduced. It was said that even the terrorist's personalities had been copied. Snake wondered who was behind the Psychological investigation.  
  
Snake and Otacon decided to keep the Dead Cell BR out of this. Originally, they were going to be the ones who would undergo the operation, to not harm the FOX-HOUND BR's psychologically. After all, shooting the shit out of your brothers, cousins and uncles isn't exactly Snake's definition of a walk in the Park. That was the exact same reason why FOX-HOUND BR's were chosen. This wasn't supposed to be a walk in the Park: Snake (And likely the NSA) would just love to see the FOX-HOUND relatives reacting at their own family wasting entire clips on them.  
  
The agents sent to Shadow Moses VR would be packing the White Artic Warfare suits the Genome Soldiers packed, Level II Kevlar vests, and an M9 Beretta each, but each had their own weaponry and devices. The Tactical advisor, Jack Sears (AKA Raiden) handed Snake the list of four operatives undergoing the mission.  
  
-Master Sergeant Elijah Slervansk. Team leader. Weaponry: Heckler & Koch PSG-1, caliber 7,62 x 51mm NATO, Sig Sauer P228, caliber 9 x 19mm Parabellum. ("Ha!" Snake thought. Wolf's brother? The team leader? "The Kurdish son of a bitch will probably get a nice surprise in that Underground Passage.")  
  
-First Sergeant Joshua Machuttes. Team Sub-leader. Weaponry: FN M249, caliber 5.56 x 45mm NATO, Heckler & Koch USP, caliber .40 Smith & Wesson. ("Let's see how Raven's cousin endures the cold.")  
  
-Private Nadia Slonoskvo. Reconnaissance specialist. Weaponry: Heckler & Koch MP5SD5, caliber 9 x 19mm Parabellum, Ruger Mk.1, caliber .22 Long Rifle. ("Mantis's niece? Oh gosh.")  
  
-Private Sean Rodriguez. Combat Hacker. Weaponry: Colt M4A1, caliber 5.56 x 45mm NATO, IMI Desert Eagle .50 Action Express. ("Hacker? I barely needed Otacon back there!")  
  
The four troopers sent had excellent Stealth and Combat capabilities, and he had confidence on Slervansk's leading skills. The four entered and saluted Snake in military style and started sitting on the Chairs of the VR machine.  
  
Snake sat down while Otacon started loading the program.  
  
"So, how do you think they'll do?"  
  
"They can do it." Otacon said. "What do you think?"  
  
"They'll all die." Snake said crudely. "I bet they will hesitate when they see their relatives, and they will kill them."  
  
"Snake, there's a program that keeps the Terrorist AI constantly updated."  
  
"Which means?"  
  
"That the FOX-HOUND members will also react to Real-Time stimuli."  
  
"In English?"  
  
"That the Sons Of Big Boss will also react in a special way to the Eclipse team."  
  
"Really?" Snake thought. "That means the terrorists will also get freaked up by seeing the Family?"  
  
"Well, most of them thought they were all dead so."  
  
"Ghosts, huh? This is going to be a party!" Snake forgot the pain, and Sadism kicked in.  
  
The tactical advisor sat down next to Otacon, and also watched the screen, which would show the Eclipse Agent's area, besides a set of "Cameras" to watch the Eclipse team members through the complex.  
  
Unlike Snake's mission, the ECLIPSE team would bring their own equipment, instead of the original On-Site Procurement. The Team would be packing also Level II Kevlar Armor vests. Enough to stop Ocelot's .45 Magnum (Colt Single Army) rounds and the Genome's .45 ACP (MK23 SOCOM). , and slow down the Genome's .223 Remington JHP (Jacketed Hollow Points) (FAMAS), but not enough to stop Wolf's .308 Winchesters , (PSG-1) or Raven's 20mm (M61A1 Avenger).  
  
Snake watched the Eclipse Team close their eyes and entered the VR simulation. They would feel cold. They would feel pain. They would feel. Urgency? Fear? Anger? Every emotion of the battlefield? He just had to watch.  
  
The simulation began.  
  
---  
  
After a couple of seconds of being unconscious, the Squad Leader, Elijah Slervansk, opened his eyes. The warm, well illuminated room of the VR simulator was gone: Replaced by the dark waters of the Bering Sea. He wasn't wearing his comfortable BDU anymore: He was now wearing a Neoprene Scuba suit. Behind him, a Squad of another three, almost as confused as him.  
  
He swam pretty well, but the rest of his partners were excellent divers, so he was kind of left behind. The Underground Cargo Area was in front. It was only a simulation, he knew but it felt. So real.  
  
"Pull your self together, Master Sergeant" He thought. It was just a computer. And his mind.  
  
---  
  
Snake watched. The four dark figures pulled themselves form the water, and made signs to each other. Snake finally saw them. Those grunts wearing white uniforms and white Ski Masks. The Next Generation Special Forces. A battle was coming.  
  
---  
  
Nadia Slonoskvo watched the Artic Warfare grunt walk closer. The FA-MAS G2 he was packing looked threatening. She turned her head around. Elijah Slervansk had already pulled his SIG Sauer from his back pack, and taken his Neoprene mask off.  
  
Both commandos waited for a distraction. The guard turned around, returning to his patrol route. Nadia and Elijah crawled towards the elevator, where Joshua and Sean were waiting, with their Pistols locked and loaded.  
  
"Great. We got here in half the time Snake did." Joshua said angrily. "So much to find the elevator in the upper level"  
  
An alarm suddenly broke the silence. Someone was coming down. The four troopers dispersed. One of the Artic Warfare soldiers got closer. The elevator reached the ground, and a man walked out.  
  
Elijah stared at the man. He looked exactly like Commander Snake. Except his hair, which was lighter, and his skin, which was darker. Liquid Snake. Wearing a trench-Coat, he got closer.  
  
"Has our unwelcome guest arrived?" The British sounding voice sounded. Joshua looked at the team leader. He was perfectly concentrated in hearing what was happening.  
  
"No sir. But our Anti-Personnel detectors sounded earlier. Must have been rats."  
  
"Stay alert. He'll be through here. I know it." Liquid sounded confident. Elijah knew what Liquid was talking about. He was waiting for Solid Snake. But now, ECLIPSE was in the house.  
  
First Sergeant Joshua Machuttes observed quietly. He, a former 7th Cavalry Regiment gunner had to hide from the enemy. Ironic as hell. He glanced at Master Sergeant Slervansk. He was quiet, staring at the couple of Tangos.  
  
"I'm going to swat down a couple of bothersome flies". The British accented voice remarked, and Liquid Snake went up in the elevator. The Genome soldier turned around and walked away.  
  
Nadia Slonoskvo watched the guard walk towards the body of water. She had no military training, just a short time in the KGB Para psychological training facility. This was too much for her and Sean, while Joshua and Elijah were ready. God, in her opinion, those two were born with guns in their baby cribs.  
  
"Now what." Nadia asked, showing no emotion at all.  
  
"We wait until the elevator comes down. Again." Elijah explained coldly.  
  
---  
  
Snake stared at the screen, glancing every two seconds at the four unconscious soldiers, living the life of a VR simulator. The screen showed the four ECLIPSE agents, waiting for the elevator in the shadows.  
  
"See? They are doing great." Otacon said confidently.  
  
"Ha! That's only the beginning. In my opinion, Rodriguez will die by the Tank Hangar. Slonoskvo will be captured in the DARPA Chief's cell, probably killed by Ocelot later. Machuttes will be dead by the time Raven's tank appears, and Slervansk is going to be really lucky if he survives Fox. "  
  
"You are WAY too harsh with 'em."  
  
"What? You think they will actually destroy Metal Gear, rescue the hostages, take out Liquid, not to mention take on FOX-HOUND? Please Otacon; you are giving the fuckers too much credit."  
  
"But. Snake, aren't they FOX-HOUND's relatives? Aren't they up to their level?"  
  
"They lack combat experience. Yes, Slonoskvo was in the KGB for a year, but Mantis was with the KGB for three years and in the FBI for four. And yeah, Slervansk worked with the Green Berets for 16 months, but Wolf was with the Nepal Ghurka's for five years."  
  
"And if we gave them that combat experience?" Otacon asked.  
  
"That COULD work, but it's gonna take time." Snake peeked at the Monitor. The elevator was coming down. "But we'll have to train them before they beat the Shadow Moses simulation."  
  
"But they will someday, right?"  
  
"I guess."  
  
---  
  
"You heard the news?" John R. Dolph interrupted his comrade's meal, sitting in their table. "The FOX-HOUND relatives were sent to the Shadow Moses VR, instead of us!"  
  
"Don't know about you, but I heard stuff about that place. Really fucked up stuff." Bogart responded in a quivering voice.  
  
"It's only a simulation!" Dolph said.  
  
"Yeah? Imagine yourself, alone in a cold island, meeting your dead family. Who is shooting at you! It's plain sadism." Bogart said again.  
  
"Sadism? Well. I wouldn't like to be caught telling this to you." Amerstraus said looking around suspiciously, then lowering his head, like if someone was looking at them. "But my partner told me he had heard from one of his men that there are certain." He paused to take a peek to his sides again. ".Stories about this "Solid Snake" individual."  
  
"He took on FOX-HOUND in Shadow Moses, right?" Dolph asked.  
  
"Not to mention that Tanker." Bogart added.  
  
"Well. Word is that "Snake" is a really, really troublesome guy. You know, the kind of soldier who has fun slaughtering the enemy with extreme brutality."  
  
"Putting it that way." Bogart had his eyes like plates.  
  
"It's just rumors. I heard another Myth about the guy. First Sergeant Machuttes told me he is some sort of outcome of a failed genetic experiment of sumpthin'. " Dolph said.  
  
"That source is reliable; Machuttes is one of the few members of ECLIPSE allowed to read the Shadow Moses report." Amerstraus thought.  
  
"Hey! I read that book." Bogart tried to remember. "Yeah! Nastasha Romanenko's in the Darkness of Shadow Moses! A fairly good book."  
  
"Gosh, it's only an overrated tabloid." Amerstraus said laughing. "Tell you the truth; I think the whole Shadow Moses thing is exaggerated."  
  
"Didn't you just say you never heard about what happened there?"  
  
"People talk. Besides, you aren't the only one who read the book. It's a best seller, remember? I bet the Ukrainian chick is in a Mansion in Malibu or something."  
  
"So, you guys know about the FOX-HOUND relatives? What you guys think about them?" Bogart asked.  
  
"Did you see that girl, "Slonoskvo"? That's my type." Dolph said jokingly.  
  
"I met the officers." Bogart said.  
  
"Machuttes and Slervansk? So, what's with those dudes?" Dolph asked to Bogart.  
  
"Machuttes is your average brute. I saw him in a Hand-To-Hand combat VR training. Smashed the enemy's faces like they were made out of paper."  
  
"How bout the other one?"  
  
"Slervansk? I made a promise to myself: Never talk to a Sharp-Shooter." Dolph said.  
  
"No way!" Amerstraus shouted out. "You are talking to me!"  
  
"Bah! You are just a watcher! I mean, what kind of honorable soldier shoots an enemy who is unaware from half a mile of distance?"  
  
"You are shitting me! We have no other choice. Is it honorable? Maybe no, but it isn't dishonorable either. If they knew, then they'd call reinforcements and then, we'd die for nothing. Is that what you'd like? " Amerstraus explain, in a kind of energetic way.  
  
"I guess you are right." Dolph accepted.  
  
"So? What's up with him?" Bogart sounded anxious to know.  
  
"Slervansk is kind of quiet, you know?" Amerstraus seemed to wait to find the right words to describe the Master Sergeant.  
  
"So?" Bogart repeated.  
  
"I heard he was with the Green Berets in Iraq." Amerstraus mentioned.  
  
"What? He was from the 101st Airborne Division?" Dolph suddenly asked, like changing his opinion towards Slervansk.  
  
"Nope. He's a former Peshmerga." Amerstraus said in a low voice.  
  
"WHAT?" Bogart asked.  
  
"Peshmerga. Kurdish Commandos. The Free Iraq's Special Forces, if you will. " Amerstraus explained.  
  
"Counter-terrorism against Saddam's state terrorism, I guess." Bogart said jokingly.  
  
"Not far from the truth, according to him."  
  
---  
  
ECLIPSE's mission was going well. In the following 4 hours, when Snake was already captured and about to be tortured by Revolver Ocelot, ECLIPSE was without casualties (Except a .45 bullet stuck in Sean Rodriguez's shoulder) and without captures.  
  
They had followed Snake's footsteps so far, except, of course, when Snake screwed up. For example, they avoided Wolf's sniper trap. (Using a truck stolen from the terrorists), and avoided a certain capture and unnecessary wounds and casualties.  
  
And they were. Even though no-one was captured, they at least tried coming back to the main complex, in the 1st floor basement of the first building, just south of the Warhead Disposal building.  
  
Master Sergeant Slervansk stood silent, just behind the door of the Torture Room. All his team was just as silent. According to the mission, Decoy Octopus and Mantis were dead, and three out of the four remaining terrorists were inside that room. A well placed flash-bang, a few shots and the mission was over.  
  
"And finally, after 30 long years, the two of us finally meet" The voice of Liquid Snake sounded. Elijah could recognize him easily, that cold voice gave Slervansk a slight shudder, making him breath deeply.  
  
"Who are they talking about?" Slonoskvo asked. "I thought we were alone in this one."  
  
"We aren't." Slervansk explained. "We arrived earlier than Snake, so we got to Ocelot before Snake and the Ninja. We found Emmerich before the Ninja killed all those Next Generation Special Forces guys. "Said sarcastically" Not to mention we crossed the Underground Passage before even Sniper Wolf got there! We are doing a record in time! "  
  
"You mean Snake is here?" Joshua asked with wide eyes.  
  
"Yes, but we never run across him."  
  
But he was interrupted: Liquid Snake left, and ECLIPSE team wasn't even noticed: Liquid had other things to do. The Team Leader watched the British terrorist leave.  
  
"Joshua, Sean, follow him. Nadia, stay with me. " Elijah ordered. Sean raised his M4A1 and nodded. Joshua just turned around, and both of them advanced crouching, following Liquid's footsteps. Elijah had just used a tactic Commander Snake had taught him a couple of days earlier: When things look bad, always call your men by their first names, so they feel the Team Leader is their friend.  
  
"So? You wanna stay for the show?" Revolver Ocelot asked. Nadia Slonoskvo had studied this situation over and over. Someone was about to leave, and she remained hidden. However, Elijah looked expectant, while he waited, "Back to wall" next to the door.  
  
"No. It's time to feed the family"  
  
"So you prefer your wolves to my show, huh?"  
  
Nadia could hear someone walking towards her. She looked at Elijah. He was calm, like he was expecting that person to come. He was quiet. He didn't even move, not even breathe. She looked at him with worry, but he only answered doing a "silence" signal with his right hand. He was holding a silenced SIG Sauer 9mm pistol in his left.  
  
Footsteps became louder. The automatic door opened: Nadia's heart stopped. The woman came out. She was distracted. She was wearing the usual in-doors BDU. She had long, blond hair, something that really called Nadia's attention: These people weren't the usual military types she imagined when she though of FOX-HOUND.  
  
The woman walked out, in the same direction as Liquid. Nadia took a glance at Elijah's face. His face showed no expression, like that of a man who was about to meet his destiny. Yet, he had fire in his eyes.  
  
He quickly stood up, right behind the woman. He was ready to attack. Without holstering his pistol, quickly wrapped his arm around her throat violently, and pulling her head back, aligning his mouth and her ear, while closing his SIG Sauer to her temple.  
  
He readied his pistol right next to her left ear, so she would hear the sound of the 9mm bullet entering the P228's breach.  
  
"Yoen meaba, henm meaba yhimnt, hmn ret hedja. .. purim pesaj" He whispered to her ear. "Don't move. If you move a muscle, you're dead, dear sister"  
  
He was talking in a language Nadia didn't understand. The woman nodded, with an odd expression in her face. Elijah was using another thing Snake had taught him: If he had to take a hostage, make sure you force them to surrender first. He remembered Charles Hanson, the Psychological Advisor, who, to force terrorists to surrender, tried to establish a connection. Maybe that's why he spoke to Wolf in Kurdish.  
  
Nadia glanced at Elijah. He nodded at her, and Nadia nodded back. She was holding her MP5 sub-machinegun. She had her back pressed against the wall, and sneaked in. Snake's torture was proceeding.  
  
---  
  
The simulated Solid Snake (Just like the real Snake before him) had to take the torture. With around 5,000 volts running through his body, and yet he had to resist. To save Meryl. To accomplish the mission.  
  
Still, he looked at his torturer, who seemed to enjoy every drop of cold sweat Snake released. His eyes were concentrated; he wouldn't blink even if he had to kill all his family, in case he hadn't killed them first, Snake thought. Ocelot smiled.  
  
How could he? Would he die there? Would Meryl be killed too? What would happen? The Colonel was seeing this. And what the hell was that behind Ocelot?  
  
A dark figure crept behind the Russian madman, raising a SEAL Knife. This knife was smaller and lighter than the usual Combat Knife, making it perfect for sneaking and eliminating silently. Without him noticing, the figure covered his mouth with HER (Snake had figured a woman was doing this, due to the thinner arms and certainly more attractive legs) hand and quickly dragged the knife over Ocelot's throat, then thrusting it violently, ripping it wide open.  
  
Due to blood pressure, the blood was ejected upwards, staining the walls and the control panel. The woman hid the knife and threw the body violently downwards. Snake figured Ocelot was dead: If he had been alive, he would have tried to stop his fall with his remaining hand, yet he fell like a puppet which had its strings cut off.  
  
The woman wasn't Meryl, was his first disappointing thought. She had dark hair, but she looked relieved when she saw the Legend strapped to the torture machine. He then looked to the door. It opened, revealing a young man's back. He had blond hair, and an Artic Warfare suit.  
  
To the virtual Snake's surprise, he was dragging Sniper Wolf at gun point! He had his pistol (A SIG Sauer, probably because they were Navy SEALs, but he wasn't sure) against her temple.  
  
Could it be possible the Colonel had sent him help? The couple secured the room.  
  
"All clear" the woman announced in clear English, yet with a noticeable Russian accent. Then, Snake noticed she had an MP5 sub-machinegun hanging off her shoulder. They were NATO forces, for sure.  
  
The blond haired man let go of his hostage "We have one of the terrorists!" He said, then he placed his SIG against the back of her neck. He spoke in excellent English, but it was clear he was a Middle-Eastern man. "Private, release Snake."  
  
"Yes sir!" She responded. They were Western soldiers, for sure. She nodded and headed for the Control Panel, and started typing. The straps released his arms and legs. The legendary Mercenary fell to his knees after being freed, due to both the emotional and electric shock. Nadia rushed to his side, while Elijah held Wolf up.  
  
"Who. Who. Are you?" Snake managed to ask the woman who tried to keep Snake standing.  
  
"You'll meet me in four years. " She said, smiling to the Computer- Simulated commando.  
  
"Who. Is. He?" He looked at Elijah, who was still aiming the pistol to the Assassin's neck. Snake realized he was a professional. Unlike Meryl, his hands didn't shake when he pointed a gun. Second, he had chosen a one-shot one-kill point to aim. In case Wolf made the stupid decision of counter attack, she'd be in the terrorist's heaven in a couple of fractions of second, if such thing existed.  
  
"He's a friend." She said, showing respect. "Sarge, you think you can interrogate the lady?"  
  
"I don't do miracles, Private" He said, and raised the pistol. "Purim pesaj, turn around!"  
  
"Why do you call me that?" She asked violently.  
  
"Just do it!" Elijah said, showing absolute resolution.  
  
She did. She looked at the man wondering: He did resemble her. He had the same piercing eyes, high cheekbones, blond hair. He spoke Kurdish quickly, naturally. But. Why? Why would any Kurd help Americans? After all their people had suffered because of them? And why did he call her "Dear Sister". No, he couldn't be, she reminded herself. All her brothers were dead, victims of the Iraqis and the American betrayal.  
  
"What do you want?" She asked.  
  
"Where's Raven?" He said.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Vulcan Raven! He's a member of FOX-HOUND! Where is he?"  
  
"What do I get?" She asked.  
  
"It's not what you get, it's what you don't. In example, you won't get a bullet in your head."  
  
Suddenly, his radio beeped. ECLIPSE didn't have access to CODECs. He'd complain about that when it was over?  
  
Sniper Wolf heard the entire conversation.  
  
"Sergeant Slervansk? Slervansk! Do you copy? Elijah!" A voice behind the radio said. It was. Otacon? But the name. Elijah Slervansk. No.. It couldn't be.. It was impossible. She hadn't been called by her surname since she was thirteen, so she took a couple of seconds to figure it out. The name. Her brother Elijah was dead. Nerve gas. She had never actually seen his body, but victims of Soviet VX are hard to identify due to the horrible deformations. But she had survived. Why couldn't he? Elijah had always been good at running away when he was a kid. Maybe he had time to escape? And now? He worked for the Americans? The world was a really small place.  
  
"Copy, this is Slervansk, Hal, what's going on?" Hal? Hal Emmerich? Oh shit. "We're plugging the plug. We'll finish this thing later, there's a situation in Washington that need to be taken care of. " Now, what the hell were they talking about?  
  
"Roger that. What are our orders?"  
  
"We'll call for the briefing. "  
  
"All right."  
  
"Oh, and Elijah."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Remind me Snake owes me five bucks."  
  
The Kurd smiled. "Roger that."  
  
The world broke into light: A bright light surrounded the Counter Terror Ops team, blinding them. Nadia opened her eyes. She was sitting again in the VR room, wearing a BDU. The simulation had been postponed.  
  
---  
  
Author's note: Well, that was the end of a tough Chapter to write. I have a lot of people to thank for helping me to make this the best Chapter I could. First, Simon Wolf, for all his advice, the people at World Guns for their info on weaponry, and Sarah Wade, for all her constant support. Thank you guys!  
  
Oh, and special thanks to "Shadow", for the Kurdish translation and support. Thanks, man! 


	6. Chapter 4: First Blood

Chapter 4: First blood  
  
2650 Wisconsin Avenue, Washington D.C., Russian embassy, United States of America, 100 Hours.  
  
The strike had to be successful, was his first thought, as he inserted a fresh magazine into his CZ Skorpion Sub-machinegun. The car advanced through the night, silently, entering the Russian embassy's grounds. The guard, who had his AN-94 pointed towards heaven, saluted the car, and then gave a stop signal.  
  
The driver shifted the direction of the car, and stopped next to the guard.  
  
"Tovarish Colonel" the guard said, with a characteristic Russian accent. "I require your documentation."  
  
"Sure, comrade" The driver said, and took out his documentation, old papers written in Russian. The guard took them and started reading them. That gave the driver's partner time to look at the Embassy. A boring square building, typical of Soviet design. It was illuminated by reflectors at ground level, giving it a weird brightness, the walls were white. That, combined to the reflectors, allowed it to be visible in the night. Light poured out of the windows, the embassy was fully functional. His thoughts were interrupted by the guard's voice.  
  
"Hang on a second! This documentation expired in 1993!"  
  
"I'm so sorry, comrade. I'll give you the new papers right away." He got his hand inside his pocket, but no paper came out this time: Rather a silenced Makarov PMM, calibre 9x 18mm, the Russian version of the German Walther PKK. The guard's eyes looked like plates, while the driver pulled the trigger.  
  
The bullet hit right between the guard's right eye and the lower part of his nose. Point-blank range, the bullet opened its way into the guard's brain, turning his grey matter into a liquid, which was ejected from the back of his head, whole the bullet had left after crossing his head. The guard fell silent.  
  
"There you go, comrade." He said, laughing, and then taking out a cell phone. "This is entry team. Guard eliminated. Proceed."  
  
The passenger could hear the sound of an engine: Effectively, a truck entered the grounds, high speed and without any considerations to the signs. It stopped, and a man walked out of the truck: He was wearing dark cloths, hard to see in the night, but the Passenger didn't recognise him: After all, all facial features were hidden by a woollen balaclava. He had a Makarov in hand. He waked towards the back of his truck, and opened it.  
  
The doors were opened, and between eight and twelve men jumped out: Wearing Urban Pattern Camouflage trousers and Kevlar vests over their uniforms. The last thing he noticed, though, was their weapons: Kalashnikov assault rifles. And all of them wearing the same black woollen balaclavas, some wearing a red beret, which had a symbol on it: The golden Hammer and Sickle, over a red background: The symbol of the Communist Party.  
  
He looked for a final time to the ID badge of the driver. It read in Russian: "We are the sword and shield of the Party", and over it "Committee of State Security". Translated to Russian, those words form an abbreviation: KGB.  
  
"Let's move it, Comrade" He said, as he opened the door and walked out.  
  
---  
  
Inside, the discussion was friendly. The group of Russians were really engaging in a conversation with their American counter-parts. Most of them were Capitalists, Russian exiles, who ran away from the Soviet dictatorship, and were now representing the modern Russia in front of its former enemy, the United States of America.  
  
"So, Andrei, what's the biggest thing to change now that Russia is turning to the free market?" One of the Americans asked. Andrei Nikolayevich Sobrietsky was the new Russian ambassador, with that winner smile and short white hair, and with a slight overweigh (Must be the Vodka, the American said to himself)  
  
"The people's mentality" Andrei explained. "In example, before 1995, the average Russian didn't know what a Credit Card was. People were used to accept what the state gave them, and never complain." He said, in excellent English.  
  
"Are they starting to build banks?" The American asked, with a slight smile. He was a banker, and Russia was like a virgin territory for a Wall Street businessmen, like him. And some of the men surrounding them were. It seemed like an Embassy toast, yet it was just a meeting between the USA and Russia's best Diplomats.  
  
"We already had banks, James. They belonged to the state, like everything in Russia back then. Just now they are open to the Citizens." He said, quite eloquently. "By the way, Mr. Stevens, when are you coming to the American Embassy in Moscow?"  
  
"Not soon." James Stevens responded, actually with a sad look on his face. "I'm a really busy man, Andrei Nikolayevich."  
  
"Come on, James. The economy here can't be going that badly."  
  
"Well, it is. No one wants to but American products anymore."  
  
"That was the one good thing about Communism: You didn't have to worry if people bought a product or not" Andrei joked, and he laughed a bit, to support it. James didn't respond. "And why is that, my friend?"  
  
"Ever since the 2003 Gulf Conflict, the World has seen America like this huge evil empire. They think they can just fuck us by not buying American, and its working."  
  
"Does this thing have anything to do with the events of the last year?"  
  
"The Big Shell takeover?" James asked. "Don't even remind me" James was one of the Businessmen that had inverted huge sums of money into the building of the Big Shell. When those terrorists blew it up, he tried to get the Government to take his money back. They didn't, so he sued. And the Government won the trial. That was the beginning of James's crisis. "Well, I guess so. Those Philanthropy bastards. "  
  
"Well, James, did you ever hear about The Patriots?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Heard the name. Who are they?"  
  
"They are a group that secretly."  
  
He stopped talking, and looked to his sides, taking some saliva down. He had a bad feeling. Some one may have heard them, and that froze every muscle. The doors suddenly opened up. One would think everyone would start screaming, yet the sight of men with Ski-Masks and AK-74 Rifles could only freeze him.  
  
The group suddenly busted it: Firing rounds into the ceilings and walls. In a second, the air was filled with screaming; everyone was running, some jumped to the floor. One of the Americans, prey of desperation, with crazed eyes pulled out his .38 revolver and aimed it to the entering men. The second later, a 5.45mm burst went through his chest, piercing his lung, and pumping blood into his throat, which he ejected from his mouth. With his last breath, pulled the trigger of his .38 Special, sending his bullet flying off his gun, punching against a column and bouncing off the white walls, creating holes in the wall. Then, a second burst had opened its way through his head, punching his upper skull backwards, in a semi decapitation.  
  
By that time, James and Andrei were taking cover in the floor, showing no opposition to the Terrorist forces. James looked forward: The terrorists advanced carefully, with their guns ready, covering each other, through the main area. He heard incoming footsteps.  
  
Could it be? The US secretariat of State had hired security personnel to support the Russian Army battalion guarding the Embassy. And they were running downstairs, armed with 9mm Clock 18C Automatic Pistols, with their expensive tuxedos and headsets. They aimed with their 18C to the men in front.  
  
The trail of bullets made their appearance: Ricocheting around the terrorists, a single bullet punching through their Kevlar and hitting him in his heart, with an instant kill, while the rest ducked for cover, slightly balancing their knees, raising their AK-74 and aiming to the heads. The group of masked men started spraying the area next to the stairs, making the group of security guards fall, choking on their own blood and covering their wounds with their hands.  
  
"Area secured, Colonel!" One of the invaders assured, confident. His AK was aimed towards Andrei Sobrietsky. "We have the Ambassador, alive."  
  
"Excellent. I'm calling the White House right away, Comrade" A voice behind his Radio announced. ---  
  
---  
  
"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the situation" Eclipse Six, AKA Solid Snake told his men, who were sitting in black chairs, in a dark room, as if a constant night had fallen, in the dark blue of the walls. The tactical and strategic advisors were sitting behind the legend. Snake was wearing his usual work clothes, an officer uniform. The rest were wearing off-duty uniforms, with a wood pattern camouflage.  
  
"Exactly two hundred hours ago, terrorists attacked and captured the Russian Embassy in Washington. Their demands: Two Billion Dollars, and a fully-loaded Metal Gear REX. They have ordered the Washington police department to stay away from the Embassy, and don't even think about surrounding it, since they have threatened to kill the hostages if they do." Solid Snake explained, feeling like he was filling Colonel Campbell's shoes. In a way, he was.  
  
"Have they been identified?" Sergeant First Machuttes asked, showing a rather eerie calmness.  
  
"Former KGB operatives backed with former Alpha team members and Russian Army effectives serving as security guards..." Both names gave the more experienced ECLIPSE members a shudder. The KGB, known from it's ruthlessness during the Cold War, and the Alpha Team, Russia's own Counter- Terror Ops team, a descendant from the Soviet Union's "Spetznaz".  
  
"Why us?" Bogart asked. He didn't want to get into a battle with no reason, he just wanted to be sure everything was alright.  
  
"Conflict of interests. The Russians would love sending their Spetznaz team to save the hostages, but the closest base of Spetzailnoye Nazraine (Special purpose troops) to the US is in Tbilisi, Georgia. Washington would like sending the boys of the FBI, but that would need some serious cop deployment, thing the terrorist don't want. We are the only international team (with both Russian and American members) prepared for this type of Improvised assault."  
  
"What do we know about the terrorist's plan?" Sub commander Monroe asked, without showing much emotion. She never did.  
  
"Unfortunately, nothing. It seems they plan to use a truck to remove their objective, the Russian Ambassador" A picture of Sobrietsky appeared in the screen. "We doubt they use the Metal Gear REX as a transport. Maybe they might launch from the Embassy's grounds. They are crazy enough. If we deliver that REX, ladies and Gentlemen, Washington, maybe the whole state of Maryland. The whole fucking east coast will be theirs!"  
  
"What about their Equipment?" Elijah Slervansk asked. The Kurd was an excellent poker player. Not the game itself, but he was a good liar. And he knew how to keep calm when hell was coming.  
  
"So far, Avtomatav Kalashnikov 1974 assault rifles, calibre 5.45mm. Czech Skorpion Sub-Machineguns, calibre 7.65mm Browning, and Makarov calibre 9 x 18mm Handguns are among their equipment. They are equipped with Satellite Radios, and Kevlar vests. "  
  
"Do we know why are they attacking their own country's embassy?" Nadia Slonoskvo asked curiously.  
  
"Err." Snake didn't know how to respond. "I'll pass you over to Doctor Hanson."  
  
Hanson stood up, and in his odd sort of way he walked forward, cleared his voice, and began.  
  
"Well, Nadia, they don't actually consider it their country. If you asked them, they are Soviets, not Russian. They think the new Democratic Russia deserves the same faith as the Tsarist Russia. Our best guess is that they want REX to pressure Moscow secretly, and then set their own Coup D' Etat."  
  
"Excuse me, Doc" Bob Bogart interrupted. "That explains the KGB guys, but what the heck does this have to do with the Alpha fella's?"  
  
"Robert, most of them have a Spetznaz background. They were employees of the Soviet Union, and that's the way they like it."  
  
"How exactly is Washington going to deliver REX, in case they have to?"  
  
"After the crash of that Stealth Cruiser against Manhattan, the government won't have it delivered in the streets. They might drop it in a low population area so the terrorist hijack it."  
  
"What about our plan?" Nikolai Amerstraus asked.  
  
"I'm sorry, Nick. I don't know anything about military affairs. I'll switch over to Mr. Jack Sears, our Tactical Advisor."  
  
"Ok." The former rookie doubted, and then started. "We'll split. Our snipers and Private Rodriguez will be the first in the "Hot Zone". Corporal Amerstraus, you'll be placed in the building in front of the Embassy. You'll be the shooter. You must keep an eye in front area of the Embassy grounds. Sergeant Slervansk, you will be inserted in the entry. Your duty will be to sneak into the service building and take a Vantage point. From there off, you'll have to cover the back of the Embassy grounds."  
  
"Why not an aerial insertion, like Nick?" The Kurd suggested.  
  
"Because Satellite images show that the terrorists have an RPG7 SAM missile launcher, pointed to the back of the building. You must sneak in there at all costs. Private, you will go with Elijah to the entry: Then, you'll sneak into the building undetected, find the hostages, and take a picture of them with you optic fibre camera. Then, you'll send it to us by CODEC. "  
  
"And then?"  
  
"All three of you will call the security's attention while the rest of the team bursts in and rescues the hostages."  
  
"Insertion method?" Sean Rodriguez dared to ask.  
  
"A Blackhawk chopper. The three scouts will be dropped in the building in front of the Embassy. Then, Sergeant Slervansk will eliminate the RPG crew with his Sniper Rifle. Then, the rest will Fast-Rope descend to the embassy's rooftop. Then, we will split in two parts. Bravo, under Sergeant Machuttes, will rappel until they reach the third floor's windows, and then enter. Their mission will be to hit the hostage zone and secure it. Team Epsilon, under Corporal Bogart, will hit the stairs, pick up Rodriguez and clear the pathway to the Heliport in the service building."  
  
"Who is going with whom?" Bogart asked, already dizzy with the complicated plan.  
  
"Team Bravo will be conformed by: Machuttes and Slonoskvo. Team Epsilon: Bogart and Dolph will be joined by Rodriguez."  
  
"Then?" Slervansk asked.  
  
"Elijah, you and Nikolai must cover team Bravo as they go to your position. When they arrive, Amerstraus will have to head to the Embassy and be picked up by Team Epsilon. Charlie, our pilot, will first pick up the hostages, and they will be left in the local FBI office. By then, you and team Bravo must form a defensive perimeter to allow safe extraction of team Epsilon and yourselves. You will then be flown here, to debriefing."  
  
"That's a complicated plan" Machuttes remarked loudly. "I don't like it."  
  
"You don't like anything that requires brains, Machuttes." Amerstraus joked.  
  
"Shut up!" He shouted, rising from the chair, showing his intimating muscles. "What 'bout our weapons."  
  
"Sean Rodriguez will be dropped with a Beretta M92FS pistol, Soliton Radar and his Optic fibre camera. The snipers will use different rifles. Amerstraus, who will need long range accuracy, will be given a L96 sniper rifle, calibre .300 Winchester. Slervansk, who will need a rifle small enough to carry around, will be given a G3/SG-1, calibre 7.62 x 51mm NATO"  
  
"The assault shooters?" He went deeper.  
  
"Kevlar suits, Tactical helmets, Ski-Masks, Urban Warfare BDU, Tactical Radios, Nomex gloves, Military boots, with Beretta M92F handguns, with Sure- Fire lanterns, and 5.56 x 45mm NATO G36K assault rifles, equipped with 1.5x scopes and laser sights."  
  
"Now that's a good gun." Slonoskvo said to herself loudly.  
  
"We'll take off in a few minutes. ..Gear up. Commander Snake will be in touch with all of you at all times."  
  
---  
  
The chopper was still under preparation for take-off. ECLIPSE crew was working on it, but that gave the team a couple of seconds to hang around the rooftops.  
  
It was the first time in almost a week he had left that base. Nikolai Amerstraus had his .300 rifle hanging from his shoulder, and wearing the standard ECLIPSE uniform: Dark blue gear, except for the black vests, Nomex gloves, tactical boots, balaclava and helmets.  
  
The sun was putting down: describing red lights surrounding the ECLIPSE building's rooftop, with a blinding golden light. It was a beautiful scene, but the thought of death blocked his mind: What if he was shot? He wished he was like his sniper partner, Slervansk, who had gone through military ops all his life. Amerstraus still kept his Beretta in his leg strap, just in case.  
  
One of the technicians stood up, rising his hands and waving. Charlie's chopper was ready to go. Nikolai shuddered, and walked into the chopper.  
  
---  
  
"Shit." Than was the only word in James's mind. He was trapped. Just on his knees, while a man with a large gun kept shouting in a language he didn't understand. Those guys were pissed, and seemed determined to cause a really big mess.  
  
But what was he talking about? They already had.  
  
"Fucking shit heads" He called him, without ever pronouncing the words. Those bastards, they thought they could. Steal his freedom and lock him up at gunpoint? Big mistake. The fucking idiots, they didn't know USA doesn't negotiate with terrorists. They would be killed. That was the difference between Cops and Counter-Terror Ops agents. Both soldiers and criminals, their lives received respect: They wouldn't be killed unless they had to die. But terrorists, they didn't. They could be shot, tortured, raped, beaten up, and the UN wouldn't give shit: Terrorists were the scum of the Earth.  
  
And they would be killed. Maybe the Washington Cops, SWAT, the FBI, maybe the fucking Navy SEALs.  
  
Or maybe none of them.  
  
---  
  
The trip between Fort Meade, Baltimore, and the Russian Embassy, Maryland, was extremely short. In short thirty minutes from take-off, Charlie was already calling the team's attention.  
  
"Ok, scouts, you'll be the first: We'll drop you in the civilian building in front of the Embassy. Now get your Fast-Rope gloves on. It's going to be a quick drop."  
  
"Alright." Amerstraus responded, in an uncharacteristic manner.  
  
---  
  
The helicopter stopped right over the building, and the darkness of night allowed it to deploy safely. Sean Rodriguez was the first man to drop. He got a hold of the Fast-Rope, closing his fingers safely, and jumping off, using his own weight to slide down to the rooftop. Before he hit the floor, Amerstraus got his and jumped, followed three seconds later by Slervansk. The mission was on!  
  
Amerstraus landed, hitting the brick wall with his long legs.  
  
"We're on the ground" He announced through the CODEC; as he saw Elijah landing.  
  
"Roger. This is Snake. Proceed." The gruff voice behind the radio announced. All three cut off.  
  
"So? What's next?" Elijah asked, loading his Sniper Rifle.  
  
"I'll cover you from here." Nick explained, while pulling the Bolt of his .300 Winchester, and walking towards the edge. Elijah and Sean nodded, as they ran to the stairs.  
  
Nick went into prone positions, while preparing the tripod and setting it against the edge of the rooftop. The tripod's use was to stabilize the rifle, making the shake un-existent. But it was uncommon to see ECLIPSE snipers using them. Both had their own means of stabilization.  
  
It was popular among FOX-HOUND snipers to take tranquilizers (Such as Diazepam, Pentazamin or sometimes Ritalin) to knock out involuntary shaking. However, neither Nick nor Elijah liked using drugs while sniping. Yeah, it made them more accurate, but also sloppier, dumber, less alert.  
  
FOX-HOUND snipers (Like Sniper Wolf) were appreciated by how long they could hold waiting for a target. ECLIPSE snipers were the opposite: They had to be excellent athletes, aim and shoot in a second, and be ready to run to the next vantage point. That was why Tranquilizers were tricky to use.  
  
Nick had tried using Ritalin, but he had problems when he had to stand up and flee. Elijah did not even think about using them. Both of them had tried, for example, rubber butts for their rifles, Nick's favourite method, but Elijah considered it to augment the recoil. The Kurd used Chewing gum to relief himself of stress.  
  
However, the Romanian had installed his rubber butt on his L96, which made it incredibly stable. It was easy to aim, unusually easy. He may never been in a counter terrorist mission, but he had shot men with a Sniper Rifle before. Ironic, since the most experienced Slervansk had never killed anyone with a sniper rifle that he was aware of. Of course, the fighting between Iraqi forces and Kurdish rebels in northern Iraq was so bloody and messy he wouldn't even remember. In other specialities. That was a different story. He wondered if the Iraqi army had any nickname for him.  
  
He had everything set, and located his finger in front of the trigger. He was ready to shoot, only if had a target. That squared building seemed empty. Most lights were out. Both Slervansk and Rodriguez were really good agents, but. Would they handle it in a real life situation? His stomach was aching. "Damn it."  
  
---  
  
Elijah stopped behind the Embassy's gate, and took a peek. "No guards patrolling the perimeter" He told Rodriguez. The Mexican checked too. It was true: guards were no where to be found. Faithful to Snake's word, no cops were present.  
  
"Ready to go?"  
  
Sean gave a signal to Elijah. The sniper nodded, and then pulled the G3/SG- 1's bolt. "Locked and loaded, baby" the Kurd said, smirking.  
  
"Good. Let's roll!"  
  
The pair got inside, and ran towards the Embassy. They could not be stopped. They would not stop. Elijah kept his Rifle ready, while Sean was unarmed. Suddenly, the first one stopped, rising his hand and crouching, the second one soon followed.  
  
"What's up?"  
  
"This is as far as I go. I'll take the entry to the basement from there." The Mexican pointed to the door near them. "Don't worry, I'll pick the lock. I know how to do that."  
  
"Alright, I'll go to the rooftop of the Service Building."  
  
"Good luck"  
  
"I won't need it."  
  
Elijah kept running, while Sean crept towards the door. It was a distinctive red door in the white wall. A sort of metaphor during the Cold War: The entry to Communism in the heart of Capitalism.  
  
He reached to the doorknob. Closed, as usual. He took out a couple of lock picks, and inserted them in that little hole. He kept playing around, drawing imaginary figures followed by mechanical noises, with the couple of picks. A couple of seconds of that, and the door released a sound. Open.  
  
He opened the door slowly, checking every centimetre, and peeking. The dark corridor was a sad look, but better than three Russians with Assault Rifles. He went in, and closed the door behind him.  
  
It was dark. He could see, but not in a very clear fashion. He took out something from his backpack: Goggles, with an odd lens, and straps. He put it on, and tightened the strap. Night Vision Goggles.  
  
The sight was greenish, but it was definitively clearer than black. It had a very high resolution form being an NVG, ECLIPSE had the best of the best in terms of equipment, maybe to make up for the lack of experience.  
  
Sean walked slowly, watching every step, because if he made a mistake, it was over. No guards in the basement meant several things. One, the bad guys were experienced:  
  
The SOP (Standard Operational Procedure) for Urban Counter Terror Ops said that hitting the basement was the safest way to attack and the place were the hostages were most likely to be. It was obvious that leaving that place undefended was not a mistake, but rather a trap: That complex basement, with its own generator in case of power breakdown, allowing plenty of hiding spots for shooters and grenade launchers. They were expecting SWAT officers to go that way.  
  
Then, why wasn't he dead? Maybe he hadn't reached the ambush point yet: Maybe those fucking Commies were going to allow the SWAT to walk around a bit before slaughtering them.  
  
And he was right: He saw it. Maybe it was just a distortion of the NVG screen, but still. It was the tip. Coming out of behind a box. The tip of a rifle. That showed the terrorists had indeed read the SOP manual. That showed the terrorists were indeed rogue Counter Terrorist Operatives.  
  
That showed Snake was right. He had to find another way around.  
  
Looking for a safe pathway, he noticed the stairs: They were too small to lead to the lobby of the Embassy, so it had to be a sort of maintenance passage. He walked, always stepping with the back of his feet, so the sound he made was minimal.  
  
He walked up, and entered a hallway. Every sense alert, Sean turned his AP Sensor on. Nothing was near. He looked up, and noticed it. A ventilation duct made of metal, passing cool air through the Embassy.  
  
He made a small jump, then grabbed the metal grid and pulled it downwards. The grid fell, but Sean quickly grabbed it before it hit the floor and made an inconvenient sound. He got in, and checked his Soliton radar. The blueprints of the Embassy and the route he had to take were already in its memory. Now the only thing he had to do was follow the directions.  
  
---  
  
"Snake, Sean is in, and Elijah is already on his way to the service building." Otacon informed, while checking his PC's screen. They were still in Fort Meade, Baltimore, safe, away from the combat zone.  
  
It made Snake feel guilty, being away from harm's way as a group (a group of his enemies' relatives, he reminded himself) of soldiers were in Clear and Present danger.  
  
"Good. Was Charlie detected?"  
  
"Nope. And if he was, then the terrorists aren't doing anything about it"  
  
"So, Otacon, how does it feel like?"  
  
"Well, I always had to baby-sit you, but now I have to watch after those boys. But don't worry. They certainly are good, otherwise."  
  
"They would be dead?"  
  
"Don't make me talk about it" Otacon shrugged, and moved his glasses up his nose. "I just."  
  
"Listen, Otacon, it's gonna be OK. If they are a third as tough as their. "Politically incorrect" relatives, they'll survive."  
  
"Snake, you already asked me. Now it's my turn. How does it feel like to lead a group of people connected to your enemies?"  
  
"It's weird, to tell the truth. I guess I just feel like anyone might just stab me if I turn my attention away."  
  
"I thought you thought Sharp was paranoid."  
  
"Paranoia isn't exactly the worst illness to have nowadays, Otacon. There are things much worse." Snake explained causally. "Being over-confident, for one."  
  
---  
  
Elijah reached the service building. Another boring work of art of boring Communist architects, he told himself. His hand, covered by a Nomex glove reached the doorknob, and with an uneasy movement twisted it.  
  
The door was open, to the sniper's surprise.  
  
He opened it slowly, trying the make the least sound possible, and then removing his Beretta from his holster. He went in, hugged by the darkness cold fingers and turned the Sure-Fire lantern below the Beretta's cannon on.  
  
The light showed cheap furniture, maybe to be used as a Warehouse, smartly located behind the Embassy itself, yet it was slightly taller than the Embassy, since it housed the Heliport. The Sergeant had already decided that his duty was to safeguard that heliport at all costs.  
  
His Heckler & Koch G3/SG-1 rifle was softly strapped to his tensed back, as he held his Beretta up with both hands, in an "Icarus" position, checking every dark corner. Suddenly, his heart stopped.  
  
"So, Yuri, how's everything in the heliport?" Elijah heard someone ask. It had Russian accent, and seemed unworried, considering they were risking their lives. Risking? The Kurd reconsidered. They were well on their way to lose them.  
  
"All clear" Another voice, blurred by a cheap radio responded. "Any cops?"  
  
"None yet. The basement team hasn't reported anything, and the Embassy isn't surrounded, as you'd expect."  
  
"Maybe these Washington policemen are smarter than we thought."  
  
"Yankees aren't smart, Yuri. They just act like they are so other nations follow them."  
  
That comment drew a smile in Elijah's face. He didn't think it was true (He wasn't a racist, he didn't like to generalize) but the truth was that the American intellect was slightly overrated.  
  
The Kurdish commando gritted his teeth, as he took a sneak peek at the talker. He had a greyish urban pattern uniform, a level II Kevlar vest, and a woollen Ski-mask. An AK-74 was hanging from his shoulder. There was a security camera right behind him, in a corner.  
  
Elijah removed the safety of his Beretta, but he didn't want to get into a fight: The enemy had a radio, and the last thing he wanted was the hostages dying because of him. Instead, he touched his ear with his hand, hoping his CODEC worked.  
  
"This is Snake." Eclipse Six replied, from the other side. "What's wrong?"  
  
"The Service building is better guarded than we first thought. There's a security guard, in constant radio contact with someone."  
  
"What do you want us to do?" Snake asked boringly.  
  
"There's a security camera near him. Do you think Dr. Emmerich can hack into it and then upload what it records into my CODEC screen? I could use having a look at the bad guy without risking my neck."  
  
Snake looked puzzled, and then he gave Otacon a look that described need of help.  
  
"Sure, I can try. Just give me a couple of minutes. Maybe I can hack the Embassy's security program."  
  
"OK, I can wait."  
  
---  
  
The feeling of defeat was invading Ambassador Sobrietsky, captured by some cheap terrorists. The worst thing was that the terrorists weren't those Islamic Fanatics, or Neo Nazi madmen he had heard so much about. Not even Chechnyan freedom fighters, which would have a real reason to attack Russian citizens.  
  
They were Russian. According to what he had heard, they were fanatic communists. Maybe they'd kill him, since he was one of the many Russian exiles that pushed the Soviet Union to its destruction. Maybe they were after James, a known capitalist. Or maybe they just wanted to screw Moscow. Anyway, they were trigger happy, and had executed one of the Americans during their assault.  
  
The odd thing was that no police were present. He was still wondering why the Russian Army effectives were helping. None of them went to help the American escort team, they had secured the rest of the Embassy, and let the former Alpha members (He noticed because of their way of acting) take the hostages.  
  
They were ten Alpha members, at least two KGB operatives, and the whole 25 men Russian Army battalion. He looked up. One of the terrorists was coming.  
  
"Tovarish Sobrietsky." One of them called. Unlike the rest, he wasn't armed with a Kalashnikov. He had the same uniform as the rest of the terrorists, with a Ski mask, and wearing a trench coat on top. Pretty weird costume.  
  
"What do you want?" He asked, in English.  
  
"Ambassador, you are our Trump Card. In case you die, a war between your country and this country will erupt. It's your responsibility to stop a nuclear war. So, I ask you to not fuck around and do exactly what you are told" The man said, and removed his mask as he got closer to Sobrietsky's round face.  
  
He had thin face, and a white moustache. His eyes were piercing and they looked like being the ones of a Psychopath. Unknown to Sobrietsky was the fact that he was. And the weapon in his hand wasn't a Makarov, but an American made Colt Single Action Army.  
  
'"Who. Who are you?" The Ambassador asked, his eyes stuck in his captor.  
  
"I'm Shalashaska, but between you and me, you can call me Revolver Ocelot."  
  
----  
  
Author's note: Wow! Not that was a chapter! I thank the Russian Government website for providing me with the address of the Russian Embassy, World Guns .com for giving me the usual weapons information. Oh, and Tom Clancy and the whole Ubi Soft Canada team for making Splinter Cell, a game that inspired many scenes of this chapter.  
  
Besides, I thank Holylance for his constant support, and obviously Shade Wolf and Blackraven8, the coolest guys (Well, Black is a girl) I have ever met online.  
  
Suggestions are still taken! E-Mail me at will. Thanks, people!  
  
. 


	7. Chapter 5: Heroic Decisions

Chapter 5: Heroic decisions.  
  
Elijah, awaiting confirmation on video feed, assessed his options. He could attempt to hold up the guard, make him say that he was going to the toilet, and then kill him, but that in itself led to complications.  
  
The guard could yell into the radio that they were under attack. Sure that would get rid of the guard, but it would add extra blood to his hands, namely the blood of the hostages.  
  
Another point was that maybe these guards realised their lives were forfeit now, and that the guard might try to kill Elijah in a suicidal counter attack. And knowing terrorists, this option wasn't too unlikely.  
  
He put that option on the backburner, and tried to find more ways of dealing with this. Distraction? He could make the guard move off in a different direction, opening the way for his escape.  
  
Impersonation was out of the question; he could pull out a Russian accent, after all, Kurds had lived within the Soviet Union for at least 40 years, but the enemy were wearing uniforms, and besides, these men probably knew each other for years.  
  
So, what course of action to take? All that was left was to wait for a reply from Snake and Otacon on whether he would get that live feed or not.  
  
-- -- --  
  
Nick scoped the area with through his rifle sights, trying to find the targets he had seen on the satellite image- the RPG-7 SAM and crew. However, he couldn't open fire until Elijah gave the go word, so he was stuck waiting for a while.  
  
It took him ages to find the crew; one reason why having a spotter was always handy when sniping. The crew appeared to be having a smoke- one of the most idiotic things you could do at night.  
  
It was the first strike of the match that caught his eyes to them. The match remained lit, and it was passed on to another troop. That got Nicks aim adjusted to where he should shoot. Through sheer ignorance, or lack of foresight, the match was kept lit. Nick pressed his finger to the trigger. Another cigarette was lighted. And . . .  
  
Nick released his hold on the trigger. That there was the time he would have blasted the bastards brain all over the ground. But Elijah had yet to say that is was good to go, so until then, he had to wait and be tortured by the easy targets, like a starving dog without his fangs...  
  
-- -- --  
  
Elijah got a call from Otacon on the CODEC. "This is Elijah. What you got for me, Dr. Emmerich?"  
  
"Got you the feed. Patching it in... now."  
  
Sure enough, a view of the guard came through on his CODEC screen. Although slightly fuzz, he could see well enough. The guard had the radio at his side currently, his hand gripped onto the AK-74 hanging from his shoulder.  
  
Elijah thanked Otacon, then closed the connection. He watched as the guard raised the radio to his mouth and gave the usual "all is well," line. From what Elijah saw, there was a three-minute rotation to the message giving. That left him little time to put his plan in action.  
  
Pulling the combat knife out from the waist sheath, he pulled out from the wall he was hiding behind, took a step forward and grabbed the Russians radio arm, pulling it back and holding it behind his back. In the same motion, Elijah slashed the strap of the guards AK-74, sending it to the floor. Elijah then kicked away the gun, and pressed the knife to the Russians neck.  
  
Elijah then, in a very sharp voice, said into the ear of his captive, "Here's the deal. You call into your boss and say you have to use the toilet. You say anything about me, I'll slit your fucking throat."  
  
However, the guard was tougher then he looked. He managed to pull out of Elijah's grip, knock the latter back and pull up his radio to issue an alarm. Unfortunately for the Russian, sticking out of the radio was four inches of knife handle, the blade embedded in the radio and the man's hand.  
  
Elijah ducked under the flailing arms of the guard, strafed behind him and with all of his strength snapped the guard's neck. The body slumped to the floor, and Elijah pulled out his knife, wiped it on the guard's balaclava, then wrapped the balaclava around the corpses still bleeding hand wound. Elijah dragged the body into a dark corner, hiding it in the shadows as best he could. He then called into Eclipse 6.  
  
"This is Snake. How's the guard situation?"  
  
"He's dead."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I was trying to force him to co-operate. He didn't go along with it."  
  
"Of course he didn't fucking go with it! He's ex-Spetznaz, for fucks sake!"  
  
"Sir, most people shit their pants when a knife is pressed to their throat."  
  
"You should've used another option!"  
  
"All I know is, sir, we've got a dead guard on our hands. That leaves us only a few minutes to execute the RPG-7 crew and rescue the hostages before the terrorists understand what has happened and execute the hostages. If I were in your position, I'd waste less time lecturing me on what I should have done, and more time on what the fuck we're supposed to do now. I'm moving out to my sniper position, so you and your tactical advisors better come up with a damn good plan." There was silence for a few moments, then Snake replied with, "Alright, move into position. Snake out."  
  
-- -- --  
  
Nick finally received the word from Elijah, and the word was go. After a quick check over, he called in that he would take out the radio man, Elijah responded that he would take the primary gunner. Nick slid the bolt lock of his rifle back, then looked through the scope, eyeing his target, all while breathing steadily, dropping his heart rate down.  
  
He exhaled, relaxing all the muscles he could, but keeping the steady aim he had to have. He looked through the sights, and saw his targets. The three terrorists all wore urban camouflage, level II Kevlar vests and woollen ski masks. Two of them had AKs, the other one (assumedly the RPG-7 shooter) carried a submachine gun, a Skorpion if he wasn't mistaken.  
  
And then, he pulled the trigger. The bullet punctured the radio mans neck, blood blasted out of the resulting wound like a spray can never before used. However, there was a problem. The shot hadn't killed the man, merely blowing out a huge chunk of his neck. The Russian was currently about to breathe his dying word into the radio- the word of alarm.  
  
And so Nick ignored the main rule of sniping- never fire twice from the same spot. He knew he had to move then shoot, but there was no time. He slid the bolt back, took the shot and blew open the guards head, the pink brain-matter flying out of the exit wound like a shotgun blast of gore.  
  
A bullet flew from the night towards Nick. It tore a hole in his BDU, grazed the skin across his left arm and then kept on going into the night. Nick hit the ground, checking the hole to see if any major damage had been done. It good luck (or a sheer fluke) that he had not been injured. However, he would never make that mistake again, seeing as the next shot might be aimed better.  
  
He called Elijah on the CODEC. "Elijah here."  
  
"Elijah, someone just shot at me."  
  
"Wasn't a shot from one of the two men we just killed?"  
  
"No, think it was a sniper."  
  
"These guys have a sniper of their own?"  
  
"Evidently."  
  
"Hold on."  
  
Nick looked over at Elijah's position, and saw a discreet flash clean up the last of the RPG-7 operators. Another flash fired, and in an instant Elijah, over CODEC, said, "Fucking hell."  
  
Nick quickly responded with, "What?"  
  
"A chunk of the wall opposite me just shattered. We've got one hell of a capable sniper on our hands."  
  
"And this means?"  
  
"This operation just got a whole lot more interesting."  
  
"Any plan of countering?"  
  
"You let off two shots. I'll watch for a muzzle flash. Elijah out."  
  
The connection closed, and Nick let out a fuck, under his breath. He kept himself on the rooftop, hidden behind the wall keeping people from falling off if they went up there and raised his arm with the rifle. He didn't aim- Elijah said he wanted two shots, and Nick would give Elijah his two shots.  
  
He pulled the trigger, then pulled back the bolt and let off the second shot. As soon as he had done it, a bullet smashed a couple of the bricks above him, sending shards of concrete and stone over him.  
  
The CODEC rang, and Elijah's distinctive voice came over. "Got the position."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Look over your ledge. In the distance you should see a large oak tree. I saw the muzzle flash near the top of the trunk."  
  
"We've got one sneaky bastard on our hands."  
  
"Rain hell down on him?"  
  
"That we will."  
  
"Who'll be the patsy who has to fire the aiming shots?"  
  
"I did it last time."  
  
"Fine. Zero in on the tree, now."  
  
Nick assumed a stable firing position and began standard aimed shot procedures. Breathe slowly, zero on the spot, and wait for the right moment. The tree was hard to see in the darkness, through the scope, but he could make out the faint outline of the branches. The crack of a suppressed rifle went off twice, and Nick saw the jackpot. A muzzle flash right where he was aiming. He pulled the trigger. A few seconds later a dark shape fell from the tree and hit the dirt. He pulled back the bolt lock again, placed his finger on the trigger and put another bullet into the shape.  
  
Nick flipped on the CODEC, calling Elijah. He started off with, "I think I nailed him."  
  
Elijah quickly came back with, "Or you just wounded him, and he's calling to the leaders and alerting them, so they'll kill the hostages."  
  
"Good point. Hey, if we hear gun shots and screaming, I owe you a beer. Nick out."  
  
Elijah moved his head away for the Heckler & Koch rifle's scope, and gave a quick look at the building. Nothing was moving, but that didn't say it was cleared. However, he had to take the chance. He reached for his CODEC, without moving from his position.  
  
"This is Master Sergeant Elijah Slervansk. Rooftop cleared. Requesting reinforcements." He said.  
  
"Negative, Sergeant," Charlie's frantic, energetic and quick voice sounded, almost drowned by the roar of the Blackhawk's engines.. "We still need confirmation from Mr. Rodriguez . . . Apparently, if we don't know where the hostages are, we don't go anywhere" He cut off.  
  
The Kurd lowered his head in disappointment. "Sean, hurry up, god damn it."  
  
-- -- --  
  
Sean had finally made it to the end of the Service passage. He moved slowly, always "Stalking" that was, balancing his knees and stepping with the back of his feet so that his steps didn't make a sound, and breathing slowly.  
  
The Latin kept his ears open, and his heart stopped suddenly.  
  
"Let me remind you, Tovarish Sobrietsky, that our country has over 27.000 nuclear warheads, and that should the situation require it, the Kremlin will use them." The voice didn't have a remarkable Russian Accent, rather an Old American Western accent, like those of the Spaghetti Western cowboys. It reminded him of a FOX-HOUND agent, but he didn't remember his name. Like. Revolver Lynx, or something. It was a cat, for sure.  
  
Could it be? He removed the Optic Camera from his chest pocket; it was a PDA, connected to a fibre optic cable linked to a small camera. The voice seemed to come from upwards, and he looked up.  
  
It seemed his luck day, since there was a small lamp, but to reduce costs the builders just let it hanging from a hole, that lead to the cable pipe, which was conveniently under the Ambassador's office. He raised himself, and checked the cable pipe.  
  
It was broken in the lower area, thing that allowed the lamp to be there in the first place. Sean pulled out his SEAL knife, and got it inside the pipe. It had high quality metal, in case they had to stab someone with Kevlar protection. He pressed strongly, and the knife went through the pipe's metal wall and the wooden floor. He then twisted the knife, to make the hole bigger.  
  
It was just barely big enough to let his Fibre Optic camera through. He took a peek to the PDA: The camera was equipped with Night Vision, so green was the predominant colour in screen, but it was clear. Six hostages. The rest would probably be somewhere else, but it was clear that a group of terrorists with AK 's were hanging around there, and the group of hostages, next to the Ambassador's desk, and all seemed scared.  
  
The point was that they were dressed in tuxedos (The hostages, obviously) and that Sean recognised one of them. With a large, round face, a prominent nose, black hair. It was Andrei Nikolayevich Sobrietsky, Russian Ambassador in Washington.  
  
"Command, this is Private Sean Rodriguez. I have spotted the precious cargo in the Ambassador's Office. Repeat, I have spotted the precious cargo in the Ambassador's office. Proceed with assault."  
  
"This is Eclipse Six" Snake responded. "Ok, Charlie, drop those guys. Machuttes, Bogart, status."  
  
The Caucasian gave a nod, while the Inuit was far more enthusiastic.  
  
"Cocked, locked, and ready to rock, sir!"  
  
"Good. Green light for assault then. Good luck, people." med scared.mewhere else, but it was clear that a group of a terrorists with AK color in screen, but, that lea  
  
-- -- --  
  
Charlie nodded, from the cockpit of his UH-60K Blackhawk chopper. The lights were blue toned, and the atmosphere was dense. That meant they had to be ready to be deployed. Inside, teams Bravo and Epsilon were loading their guns.  
  
"OK, people, the precious cargo is in the Ambassador's office, in the third floor. Repeat, Ambassador's office, third floor"  
  
The Bravo leader, Joshua Machuttes, nodded back as he inserted the 5.56 x 45mm SS109 magazine into his G36K and released the safety. Epsilon leader, Bob Bogart, pulled back the slide of his Beretta M9, and nodded too. Both teams were good to go.  
  
Everyone was silent, each with a grim look. For some, it might be just another mission, but for most of them it was their first, so nerves were there and eating off the team's brains. Some people said horror was the best weapon. And against ECLIPSE, blood relatives of the best soldiers who ever lived, it was lethal. None of them admitted that, they just didn't say anything, in contrast to their friendly nature.  
  
The chopper's door suddenly opened. The frozen eyes scoped the area, with the look of a corpse. Everyone stood up. All guns loaded to the max, everyone fully armed. It wasn't going to be easy to fast-rope with the tactical helmets and the 3 kilograms Kevlar vests, with ceramic reinforcements, but didn't have much of a choice. It was either that or feeling guilty and cowardly the rest of their lives. They wouldn't allow that, and if they had to risk their lives, so be it.  
  
The marker (still in red colour) told the team to stand down, while the other marker (greenish) told them to go. Thank god, the green light was off.  
  
Private Slonovsko was the first one to go. The Russian lady swallowed saliva, grabbed to the rope like the Teddy Bear she had as a child, like it was the last thing she was going to see. How the fuck did she got there? Was it fair? She remembered the reason why she was there, something that had to do with her uncle.  
  
But damn, what the fuck did she do? Apparently, her Uncle had some sort of NATO special forces thing going and, whatever screwy shit he had got into, was dead and she was dragged as a replacement. And what the fuck was the whole psychic power shit? Why was she held responsible for whatever her uncle had done?  
  
The green marker suddenly turned on; she knew it was now or never, and she chose now, and jumped.  
  
-- -- --  
  
Nikolai Amerstraus was now certain; the man he had shot was not moving, not breathing, but at the point he regretted not asking for Night Vision Goggles. The Russian sniper's head was split in half, one of the halves impressively away from the body, a testimony to the .300 Winchester round's deadliness. The fucking idiots operating the SAM were not moving either. All shots had been clean, except the guy who almost lost his neck. The guy Elijah shot didn't seem so deformed, thanks to the 7.62 x 51mm NATO's lower punch.  
  
The Romanian raised his head.  
  
The Blackhawk flew over the building, and stopped over the rooftops: It just stood there, as if it was floating, and the team members started dropping. The team was sliding down, one after another, in two second intervals. The team was being deployed. And that meant those Communist sons of bitch were going down.  
  
However, he remembered the second part of his mission: Make sure nothing gets in or out of the facility. He took a glimpse of his partner's location; Elijah was also watching the show: The team landing from the helicopter with maximal precision, result of weeks of training, before Snake arrived of course.  
  
That meant that the mission was still going, despite of everything.  
  
-- -- --  
  
"Raiden. I mean, Jack, where the fuck have you been?" Asked Eclipse Six, watching his Tactical advisor walk in, almost casually, drinking his coffee, while Snake and Hal were eating their nails off.  
  
"I was checking the Satellite Images. The thermal recon showed an exaggerated concentration of heat in the dining room."  
  
"What was the temperature of the mass?"  
  
"Almost 38 degrees in the Celsius scale"  
  
"It might be the hostages. . ." Hal reasoned, in an optimistic tone.  
  
"Or just a sort of Barrack the terrorist gathered" Snake responded.  
  
"Snake, Sean detected only six hostages in the Ambassador's office. They are at least 20 hostages, remember? It has to be!" Otacon said, trying to get Snake's spirit up.  
  
"OK. We'll make sure Epsilon team goes through there. anyway, remember, Sobrietsky is the precious cargo. If someone is vital, it's him."  
  
"All right."  
  
"What's the status on the blood sucking freak's cousin and your brother-in- law?" Snake asked, while turning his chair around to face Otacon.  
  
"The snipers have cleared the rooftop, they are unharmed and as far as we know, undetected."  
  
"Great work." Sears remarked.  
  
"Any luck hacking into the terrorist's communications?"  
  
"No luck . . ." Otacon shook his head slowly, showing his lack of hope on the subject.  
  
"But the Recon showed Satellite radios, which means that they are using a military satellite, right over Washington at the moment." Snake said, taking a peek at the picture of the RPG7 crew. "Taking the offensive is one heroic decision."  
  
"We are in luck, then!" Jack Sears, AKA Raiden shouted confidently.  
  
"Explain" Eclipse Six asked, seriously, in an almost dark tone.  
  
"Right now, there's a Russian military satellite going right over the U.S., right? It is likely that they have hacked into the Soviet Union's Tactical Network to use their satellites for communication. Anyways, the Satellite will be off American airspace in two minutes. It will be another 40 minutes until another Russian satellite passes through. Without any Satellites, the terrorists won't be able to communicate using their radios. That gives us exactly 40 minutes to execute the assault without risking a coordinated counter-attack! "  
  
Otacon and Snake stared blankly at Raiden. How could he, a few months ago a rookie, become the tactical mastermind he was now?  
  
"Jack, I could kiss you. . ."  
  
-- -- --  
  
"This is Bravo leader, we are here!" Joshua shouted, his voice a blur, shrouded in the noise of the helicopter above him. The ECLIPSE troops landed in a coordinated way and got into a circular formation; making a circle, defending the landing zone. They were crouched, in order to maximize accuracy, and with their rifles raised.  
  
"This is Epsilon leader, sir, we are good to go." Bogart announced, crouched, in the perfect circular formation.  
  
"Squad, listen, this is Snake. I want to you to hold that position until . . ." He checked his watch "Within one minute and thirty eight seconds. The enemy will be uncommunicated during the following 40 minutes."  
  
"Roger that, sir!" Joshua responded, while setting that time in his chronometer and decided to be in charge. "Slonovsko! Recon!"  
  
"Two hostiles down, sir!" The woman responded.  
  
The bodies were lying there, not moving, but they still had one minute to pass, and they would use it. Epsilon leader was gave the next order.  
  
"Dolph! Check the hostiles!"  
  
The African American nodded, and took a run for it. He stood up, and ran out of formation, towards the RPG7 Launcher and its crew. What he saw there would stay in his mind for ever.  
  
"Oh shit!" He shouted through the radio. "His fucking neck was blown off! Holy mother of god."  
  
"Are they dead, John?" Bob asked, in a far more natural way than Joshua.  
  
"Yes sir! Dear god, not even their mother would recognise them!" He was panicking, after all, this was his first antiterrorist mission, and hell, it was way tougher than the regular battlefield.  
  
"Ok, retreat to formation."  
  
John R. run towards the circle, and crouched in the circle, between Bogart and Slonovsko. He tried to push the destroyed heads of those terrorists in the back of his head, took a breather, and focused in his duty; to save those hostages.  
  
"Squad! Time's up! Move out!" The circle broke after the order; The two teams ran in their own directions, with absolute determination and showing the results of those moths of training, running in military manner; almost crouched, with the G36K always raised, ready to shoot.  
  
Team Epsilon reached the door way that lead to the stairs. Bogart, checked it quickly. "Ok, it's locked."  
  
"What are you planning?" John asked when he saw Bogart retracting the G36K's butt and hanging the 5.56mm rifle from his shoulder, and pulled out a small package of his back pack. He placed in the door, and pulled out his detonator.  
  
"Retreat, Johnny, this is gonna blow big!" He said, while walking backwards. John R. Dolph crouched behind him, covering his back. Then the explosives expert triggered the detonator.  
  
The door was consumed by a ball of fire, which tore it apart; it became a rain of small wooden stakes flying in all directions, followed by a thunder noise. By the end of the detonation, the door was nothing but some ashes in the door step.  
  
-- -- --  
  
"Iosef, did you hear that?" One of the terrorists asked to his partner, both clad in their Gray BDU. Both wore balaclavas, but Iosef 's was pulled upwards, only covering his hair, revealing a thin face, and cold blue eyes.  
  
"Yeah, Boris, sounded like an explosion."  
  
"Do you think the others heard it?"  
  
"C'mon! This place is huge! We may be the only ones."  
  
"I'll radio HQ." He said, pulling out his radio. However, the Russian satellite was now out of range, orbiting right over Nicaragua. "HQ, this post #2. We heard an explosion near the stairway leading to the rooftop. Send an investigation team . . . Over . . ."  
  
The satellite was too away, and it seemed Raiden's plan had worked; only static. The next Satellite would arrive in 39 minutes and ten seconds, but it was currently in the north western Pacific Ocean, also out of range.  
  
"Shit!" Iosef shouted.  
  
"Did they say anything?" Boris asked.  
  
"Nichievo, comrade" Iosef shook his head.  
  
"Let's go and check out ourselves . . ." Boris said, smirking and inserting a fresh magazine into his AK.  
  
-- -- --  
  
Sean stopped, and took a breather. He had got out of the hostage zone undetected, and besides, the Russians didn't even know he was there in the first place. He had not gone far; he was now near a command post, the place where terrorists gathered. Would not it be nice if he knew exactly what the terrorists were up to? He prepared his Directional Microphone.  
  
"Major Arbatov, are your men in position?" The western accented voice asked, in a relaxed tone.  
  
"Yes sir. They have re taken their patrol routes prior to the assault." It didn't take many brains to realize that Arbatov was the Major in charge of the Russian Army battalion stationed in the Embassy.  
  
"Good. Captain Steyanovich?"  
  
"My men have been stationed in the lower area of the Embassy. In case that any of Arbatov's men ask for reinforcements, my men will act as a backup team. It suits their training better than patrolling, comrade." Steyanovich was the Alpha commander, no doubt about that.  
  
"Excellent. Colonel Vereyanka, Colonel Vassov, how are the negotiations going?"  
  
"No use. Those Americans are stubborn and idiotic. They firmly believe we will use REX against them."  
  
Sean blinked, and prepared his CODEC.  
  
"Sir, I got something. The data at the Ambassador's apartment, it's worth gold. "  
  
"Roger, this is Snake. Otacon, I mean, Dr. Emmerich has hacked into their security camera. I'm checking that out . . ."  
  
Snake turned his attention to the monitor, currently showing the Ambassador's apartment. The apartment wasn't large, it had brown walls, pretty comfortable, and allowed the Ambassador to relax; Nice TV set, VCR, DVD, it seemed as if Mr. Sobrietsky could live a full life without walking out of the Embassy.  
  
One of the men had a Russian military outfit. The greyish pattern in his pants, and a Kevlar vest. It wasn't likely that he was going to be shot, it was plain image. Other two, with Officer Clothes, brown suits that showed lack of imagination, and, not to Snake's surprise, a couple of KGB berets.  
  
However, Snake's heart stopped when he finished sweeping the room with his eyes, and saw him; General Ivan, Shalashaska, the only terrorist survivor of Shadow Moses. But Snake preferred his codename . . . Revolver Ocelot.  
  
"That's no surprise, comrade" Ocelot smiled to Vassov, a young KGB Colonel. He had a thin face, and a cold look; He and Vereyanka were the ones that had reached the site in the car, under cover.  
  
"General Ivan, I'm afraid that the negotiations are going nowhere." Vereyanka remarked. He had been the one that had shot the guard in the face with the Makarov. The perimeter guards hadn't been told of the rebellion, thus were the only ones eliminated. He had a sort of ridiculous lock- shaped beard, and blue eyes, much older than Vassov. He was a senior operative of the SVR, the foreign department of the KGB.  
  
"American cowards! We can't hope to make them listen! I told you we had to hijack it, not ask for it, Shalashaska!" Steyanovich was a former Spetznaz, and had met Ocelot during the Afghanistan war. It was there that Ocelot had got his nickname. He and Ocelot were the only survivors of the Hind-D crash, victim of a lucky Stinger shot from an Afghan soldier. That had created a strong bond between them. Not as friends, but as Comrades at arms.  
  
"Don't worry, my dear Dmitri!" Ocelot said confidently, looking at Steyanovich. "In case we have to flee the country, we still have Andrei Sobrietsky."  
  
"Yes! While me and my men are roasted alive by the Americans!" Arbatov shouted, angrily at Ocelot.  
  
"Listen, Major!" Ocelot snapped, raising his Colt Single Action Army and aimed it at Arbatov's heart. The Russian army man shrugged, and stood down. "We are here together. In order to bring Mother Russia back, we will have to make some sacrifices, understood, Major?"  
  
"Yes, my General."  
  
-- -- --  
  
"Sergeant! The rappel equipment is set!" Slonoskvo shouted, while tying the synthetic rope to her hip.  
  
"Let's move it, then!" The large Inuit grabbed his own rope and tied it hard to his pectoral region. Both of them grabbed their ropes, and walked over the edge of the Embassy's rooftop.  
  
"Ok, Nadia, breathe, ok? Breathe . . ." Slonoskvo whispered to herself as she walked backwards, next to the white wall. She grabbed her rope, as she was hanging off her life. And she wasn't going to let go. The Embassy was twelve stories high, and they were rappelling down slowly, trying to not be seen though the windows. It was going to be a long way down.  
  
-- -- --  
  
"Clear!" Bogart announced. The stairs lead to the insides of the building, some old metal staircase, with cheap lamps. It wasn't likely that the guests were going to the rooftop, so it wasn't very glamorous. It was rather dark, so Bob's rifle's flashlight was on. He was sweeping the area, through the scope of the Heckler & Koch G36K.  
  
He started walking down, followed by Dolph, also armed with a rifle. They walked slowly; the last thing they wanted was to get caught, and besides, there was no rush . . . Or was it? Only 38 minutes until the terrorist would get their communications back . . .  
  
Dolph wasn't talking. His balaclava didn't allow much gesticulation, anyway. They both kept their rifles on position; the half second that took to raise the rifle to the height of the eyes allowed at least 8 bullets to pierce their bodies. They were absolutely alert, considering the poor illumination, and they couldn't give themselves the luxury of making a mistake; that was the rule in CQB (Close Quarters Battle) combat. If you are going to do something, be fucking sure it is the right thing.  
  
Maybe that's why they noticed it. The stairway turned at the corner, to allow major use of the space given. Then, in the wall around the corner, Bogart noticed it; that small, diabolical red spot; the last thing many people saw, the mark of the sight of the enemy.  
  
A laser sight.  
  
He moved a bit towards the brick wall to the left, allowing Dolph to crouch and cover the corner. The laser sight moved slightly; common sense screamed that the enemy was indeed moving, probably in their direction. Dolph and Bogart were frozen; they wouldn't make a mistake, because if they did . . .  
  
They did it; the Russian soldier, probably one of the Russian army battalion, with his AK (equipped with their laser sight) and a helmet, and a new balaclava. They doubted they were issued with the uniform, must have been a lovely gift from their terrorist friends.  
  
The tango (Codename given to terrorists in the military jargon) turned around the second the ECLIPSE assault shooters pressed their triggers.  
  
ECLIPSE committed one single mistake; they were so concentrated they didn't allow mobility in their arms, making a deadly accuracy, if aimed to the right spot. Unfortunately, the Russian were better trained than ECLIPSE first thought.  
  
-- -- --  
  
Boris heard the sound of the Nomex clad fingers smashing the triggers, and the sound of the G36K of ECLIPSE. It was like a metal drum, being hit 16 times per second, followed by the smell of gunpowder and of the brick being smashed by the FMJ type 5.56 x 45mm SS109 calibre bullets and spraying reddish particles and brick shards towards the Russians. Those Americans would pay.  
  
Boris dodged the attack, he leaped backwards, as he saw the brick wall be shattered by the burst or bullets, which smashed in and released that red cloud, and he retreated, underneath the flight of stairs.  
  
Josef, conveniently behind him, noticed the Americans, and wanted to get back at them; He pointed his AK-74 and pressed the trigger; a ball of fire erupted from the tip of the Kalashnikov, puking high-calibre rounds towards the Americans, and Boris joined the firing. The bullets dashed through the steps of the stairs, and going through the cheap metal, making inverse craters, which released the bullets like angry sharks swimming towards unsuspecting swimmers. The sparks lighted the scene, and panic invaded them. ECLIPSE walked back, trying to avoid the rain of ammunition, coming from below, walked backwards and upwards through the stairs. Both Bob and John knew that they wouldn't last another three seconds, so they decided to fire back.  
  
They couldn't aim, because they didn't have time, because they were blocked by the metal steps, because if was useless . . . They lowered their weapons and fired back. A sudden firestorm, of AK and G36 rounds, going in all directions, making the situation oppressive, knowing that any of those hundreds of bullets flying around could kill them, and the feeling of the rounds going a few inches from their heads.  
  
Suddenly, it stopped.  
  
One of John R. Dolph's bullets pierced Josef's arm, making the Russian cry in pain, while the antiterrorist agents took the chance to retreat and reload their guns.  
  
"Help me, Boris!" Josef cried, with the bullet stuck in his arm.  
  
"Give me your Kalashnikov!" Boris shouted, slightly from above, seeing if he could get those fucking Yankees. "When they come back, they will be dead meat, I assure you!"  
  
With his remaining arm, threw the assault rifle to Boris, who reloaded it, and took it with a single hand. Boris was an amazingly big man, almost as double as big as Robert Bogart, and could hold both AK rifles as if nothing, holding the butts with the back of his elbow, and ready to shoot, and walked upstairs, in the corner, where he could get those Americans and kill them like dogs.  
  
Josef, below him, wouldn't stop fighting; He pulled out his Makarov, and held it with his remaining hand. "Let's get those capitalist pigs!" He shouted, franticly.  
  
Meanwhile, both ECLIPSE agents had reloaded their G36K rifles, and ran downstairs, but suddenly, Boris jumped, covering the corner. It was an amazing sight; that huge man, holding two Kalashnikov's with his amazing arms, and screaming, resembling ancient war cries, and firing, spitting hell to the young Americans.  
  
However, Boris didn't think, and that was his death; the recoil of both rifles would be so powerful he would miss for sure. He screamed the hell out, while shooting with both rifles simultaneously. Obviously, the guns were almost dancing, since no hand was holding the forward area, the tip seemed to move around.  
  
The ECLIPSE solders ran forward, unafraid. The shots were poorly aimed and shot. The projectiles were bouncing off all around them, while they made controlled three round burst. Probably, Boris's body was just a huge can of adrenaline, since the 5.56mm bullets did hit his torso. He shook up violently, but kept shooting, with crazed, blank eyes, and a war cry, like that of a medieval soldier. Rounds kept hitting, him, his blood oozing, and small fragments of bone and organs flew from the holes.  
  
Finally, Dolph knew that he wouldn't stop him like that, and started spraying with his own rifle, hitting Boris all over, until the pressure was too high and the Russian flew back, due to the kinetic power of the NATO rounds. He hit the destroyed wall behind him, and fell, leaving a trace of blood.  
  
As he saw his gigantic friend drop dead, Josef started screaming and shooting with his Makarov. The bullet amazingly went through one of the metal steps and hit John in the chest. Thank god, the Kevlar vest stopped it, and allowed the Americans to shoot back, missing by inches. The Russian raised his gun, and at the same time did an effort to take out his radio with his wounded arm and start shouting.  
  
"The fucking Americans! They shot Boris! Mother fuckers! Do you read me?" He was shouting, but no one was listening. The satellite was still far off. When he turned around his face, he noticed the two lasers pointed at his head, and the two Americans, a few inches from Boris's body, aiming.  
  
The Russian started shouting, and firing his Makarov, forcing the Yankees to retreat, while threw himself downstairs, trying to still make an effort. He fell violently over the cold, metal stairs, and realised that the Americans were in his pursuit. This was the time.  
  
Again, making a heroic effort, the communist managed to take a grenade from his pocket, and threw it upstairs, to Dolph and Bogart.  
  
"See if you like that, Yankee swine!" He shouted in heavily accented English.  
  
Dolph noticed the grenade, the green explosive artefact a few seconds away from detonation.  
  
"Back off, John, it's going to blow!" Bogart shouted, trying to get away.  
  
"Wait! I'll give the communist mother fucker his little toy back." The African American shouted, grabbing the grenade (two and a half seconds of fuse remaining) and threw it with strength down the stairs.  
  
When Josef noticed, he saw his own grenade falling downstairs, towards his position! Luckily, the fuse gave up before what Josef expected, and it blew in the middle of the stairs, without killing him, but the combination of the pain of the bullet in his arm and the punch of the blast (equivalent to being tackled by a bear) was enough to make him lose consciousness.  
  
The two Americans walked down, seeing the results of that four man battle; the walls were filled with holes, so were the steps, and two enemies down. When they reached Josef, Bogart crouched, and touched the zone of his head behind his ear.  
  
"He's alive, but unconscious." The Corporal said.  
  
"So? Let's kill him!"  
  
"No! If we do that, we will be no better than they are. Handcuff him. We may find him as a useful source of Intel in the future." -- -- --  
  
She was still tense. Walking down, holding her Rappel rope, through the night, and hopefully, under Nick and Elijah's cover, the best shooters she had ever known. The surface she was walking on was safe, considering she was moving vertically and without significant protection against failures.  
  
"We are here!" Joshua, slightly below her, shouted, since they had arrived to the 3rd floor's windows. Nadia herself went down to the level of the windows, and stared at the squared, polarized (so no one could see what was going on outside) glass windows, almost black in the dark.  
  
"Shit! I can't put the fucking explosives! Not like this!" She shouted, realizing she couldn't reach her pack of C4 in her backpack. "What are we going to do, man?"  
  
The Inuit knew what to do; He didn't say a word, turned his head slowly to meet Nadia's, covered by her balaclava. Joshua removed his, to reveal his large bald head, and gave her a smile. Right then he jumped, using the surface of the wall as a thrust, then held the rope with all his strength, and by the time he was four feet away from the window, producing a "Hammock" effect, moving back towards the window with his legs pushed forward, and using his powerful legs to smash the glass.  
  
-- -- --  
  
Unfortunately, one of the terrorist was patrolling the third floor. He was having a high-quality cigarette, one of those luxuries you could only enjoy in the United States of America. Too bad he was now fighting for the end of that nation, along with other Capitalist nations, and that luxury would soon be over for everyone.  
  
In a way, the relationship between the US and the Soviet Union was the same than Quality and Quantity. The Soviet Union (and communism in general) support quantity, a regular group of men, the Marxist dream. Yet, the US's individualist philosophy leads to the major appreciation of Quality of Quantity.  
  
He kept his gun loaded, but no rounds were in the chamber, and the safety was on. He knew that if the antiterrorists either attacked by the ceiling or by the floor, or both, it would take a long time to reach his post, in the third floor.  
  
He looked through the windows, yet not much was to be seen. The glass was polarized, a chemical process that blocked the view on one side and reduced it in the other, but . . . He saw a move that caught his attention, on the window he was now near from. The shadow seemed to move away, and suddenly grow . . .  
  
-- -- --  
  
Joshua destroyed the glass with his legs, only to realize that a terrorist was on his way! Without letting go of his Rappel cord, he also used the same impulse to kick with both legs the chest of the tango, sending him flying of, and hitting the wall, rendering him unconscious.  
  
Joshua checked if his enemy was even alive, and he was. Nadia did also arrive through the same operation, and both let go of their Rappel equipment, and secured their enemy.  
  
"Commander, this is Joshua. We have arrived at the third floor."  
  
"Roger that, Bravo leader. The hostages are currently in the Ambassador's office. I suggest you hurry."  
  
"Sir, yes, sir!"  
  
-- -- --  
  
Author's note: That's the end of this chapter. Well, I guess you might have noticed, but the first part of this chapter has been written by a friend, DJ Wolf-Goth (not his real name). Then, Noé Ayala, who gave much emotional support and everyone that, reviewed me, since they are the ones that make me keep going. Thanks! 


	8. Chapter 6: Confrontation

Author's note: Excuse me if this or any of this story's chapters seem untidily written. I'm yet not experienced in the use of the Fan-Fiction system, and in case something fails, just write it in the Reviews. Thanks.  
  
Chapter 6: Confrontation.  
  
Sergeant First Joshua Machuttes, of the antiterrorism unit ECLIPSE, walked forward, quietly, in the cold environment of the Russian Embassy. In wearing his tactical black BDU, he felt like a sitting duck, keeping his head low and his eyes stuck in the 1.5x scope attached to the G36K, the smaller version of the standard rifle of the Bundeswehr, (the German army) the Heckler & Koch G36. The "K" stood for "Kurtz" German for "Short".  
  
Anyways, it was the best rifle they could get. It combined accuracy and firepower, and it was small enough to use in CQB situations, even tough he was still carrying his support M9, but wasn't expecting to use it. After all, he kept four magazines of the deadly FMJ type 5.56 x 45mm SS109, the official calibre of NATO assault weapons.  
  
Behind him, Nadia Slonoskvo, that small, gentle lady, was also keeping her rifle raised, conveniently covering Machuttes's back. He was large, bad thing for an antiterrorist agent, since he stood as a large target, easy to hit. However, in Nadia's opinion, he was so resistant he should be able to handle one or two bullets, right?  
  
The Russian checked her back. No, no one was following them. Behind them, stood a once fully alert terrorist, now a knocked out idiot that happened to pass though the same window as Joshua, an almost two meter tall monster. He had his head resting in the wall, but he had been disposed of weapons and radio, just in case.  
  
Right then, the Kalashnikov was hanging of Joshua's back, a testament to his strength. She was already sweating by just having to hold her tactical BDU, four Flash-bangs (grenades that instead of being loaded with explosives, like the usual Fragmentation grenade, were loaded with magnesium powder, to create a blinding flash that could turn someone blind and deaf for a few seven seconds, enough to send them to hell) and her G36K, yet he could carry all that, plus a demolition pack, and an AK-74, so he probably deserved the nickname of "Mule".  
  
In any way, she doubted he would need it, but maybe it could prove useful, she didn't know. That was why she was a private and Joshua was a Sergeant. Joshua could order around any member of ECLIPSE, except Elijah Slervansk, who could give orders to practically anyone except Snake and the Sub- Commander Monroe.  
  
And by the way, why wasn't she there? She had been in the exercise, but maybe she couldn't be there, and stuff. Anyway, her lack of appearance had demoralized a few team members. Nadia, with all her fragile looks, was a strong woman; she had, after all, survived a year in Lubyanka, the KGB Command Centre, being tortured to see if she could release some sort of Mental power, because someone (likely that odd uncle of hers) was one of the few, and probably the most powerful, user of that sort of paranormal action.  
  
That experience had left her marked; all those shocks, those things strapped to her head . . . She tried to deny it, but the reason she had been there, in that white bed, strapped and connected to some sort of brain reading machine, was the same that she was with that ski mask and aiming that rifle. Because of her uncle. Whoever he was.  
  
-- -- --  
  
"Elijah?" The thin-faced Romanian asked through his CODEC.  
  
"Yeah?" The Iraqi asked, almost mumbling.  
  
"There's not much action here, maybe I should report with the rest." He explained, while looking through his high-quality 5x scope, attached to his L96.  
  
"Roger. I'll stay and cover the rooftops. Not like there's much to cover, anyways." Slervansk said, tired, with his curious blue eyes staring forward.  
  
"Good" Nick said, confidently. "Listen, Elijah, do you think I can go downstairs in this hotel and no one will notice me, in this military fatigues?"  
  
"C'mon, Nick. You are in front of the Russian Embassy, Just say some random words in Russian, and they'll take the hint"  
  
"Right." Nick, said, before standing up and retracting the tripod below the L96's cannon, and run towards the stairway. It would be a fast way down, but truth was Nick was in no mood to kill terrorists at short range. Well, if he didn't have to.  
  
The Kurd blinked tiredly. How did he come to this point? From being born in a small village less than twenty miles from Halabja, Iraq, to be dropped in a heliport with a sniper rifle awaiting for some idiotic communist to show up so he could blast his head off. Turns of destiny, he thought. Fucking turns of destiny.  
  
How did it all start? It all started November 14th, 1980, in the Roman calendar. A Kurdish child was born in a small Kurdish community, 13 miles off Halabja, the Kurdish capital in centre Iraq. He was named Elijah Mahmoud Slervansk. He was an Iraqi, but he was a Kurd of the Aryan variety, due to his blue eyes, blond hair and general Western-like facial features.  
  
If there was a sentence that marked him for the rest of his life, it was something his father told him when one of his sisters was born.  
  
"Take care of her" that sister in particular would be key in Slervansk's involvement with the antiterrorism team ECLIPSE.  
  
He was the eldest of five brothers and two sisters, (one born every year) Son of a hunter, he was the one that was taught (by his father) how to properly use a rifle.  
  
He was taught with a German made K98 Mauser, a WWII era rifle, but extremely accurate. Ammunition was scarce and expensive, so every shot counted. After being praised by family and friends for his excellent shooting skills, he then passed on his knowledge to his siblings. Honestly, they sucked, except for one of his younger sisters. She, like him, was a natural shot.  
  
Life was tough, having to fight off Sunni Iraqis every once in a while, food was scarce and they were extremely poor. But it only got worse. In 1988, the Kurds rebelled in Iraq, in coordination with the Iraq-Iran war. Saddam Hussein, by the time Iraqi dictator, was unable to fight off the Kurds with conventional means, since his army was fighting off the Iranians. The solution? A massive payload of Chemical and Biological agents, fired at the Kurdish centre in Halabja, including 5 Soviet VX-type nerve agent warheads.  
  
The total dead count in the Halabja was 5,000, more than in the WTC attacks in New York, but they didn't get the worse deal; the small villages around Halabja didn't count with medical supplies, so the dead count in those rural communities sky-rocketed. In the particular village in which Elijah Mahmoud Slervansk was born, the population count was reduced to two in less than a few minutes.  
  
The survivors happened to be Elijah and that Small sister.  
  
They survived, somehow, to the VX, and were lost in the desert. But hunting wolves to live in the desert wouldn't do the trick forever.  
  
They were saved. Saved by combat. The two siblings were suddenly caught in a firefight between a squad of Iraqi soldiers, and a platoon of Turkey's Special Air Service (The Turkish special forces, stuck in combat with the Kurdish insurgents), currently scouting the area for survivors of the attack. It was between bullets and mortar shells, both commanders agreed to cease fire, and save the kids. It was weird, two small armies stopping due to two children, somehow in the desert.  
  
They decided that, to keep it under wraps, the girl should go with the Iraqis, and that the boy would go with the Turks. She never saw him again. But he did.  
  
He was taken to Istanbul, where he was raised with combined elements of the western and Islamic cultures, combination so typical of that city, in the joint of Europe and Asia. He grew up in a merchant family, half Kurds-half Armenians, until he was 18 and moved to Tel'Aviv, Israel, to get College education.  
  
He studied languages and history. He wasn't top of his class, but did well. Of course, the classes coming to an end, he would have to find a job . . .  
  
But the job came to him; after getting his degree, a bus, filled with hostages and a deeply disturbed Palestinian, exploded, killing several people. Elijah happened to be at the scene, yet he risked his life to save a woman. To his surprise, the woman was not Israeli; she was an American, the wife of the American Ambassador in Israel.  
  
He had been stabbed all over the back with shrapnel, but he was going to make it.  
  
His background didn't take long to appear in the CIA's residence director in Israel's desk. By the time, the war on Iraq was close, and the CIA needed some spooks among the Iraqi Kurds to maintain discipline.  
  
For Langley, he was perfect; Survivor of the Halabja Massacre, (he would be pretty pissed at Saddam Hussein) excellent shooter (He would work in combat), studied Languages and History in Tel'Aviv (he could mix in the crowd) . . . he was perfect for the job.  
  
"Slervansk? Do you read me?" Snake broke Elijah's deep line of though, his short autobiography.  
  
"I hear you. What's up, boss?"  
  
"Both teams are in. We'll keep you in the back, to be sure, but you can start relaxing. "  
  
"Great, boss" the sharpshooter took his sight out of his scope for the first time in the hour. "Anything else?"  
  
Snake's face was blank, as if he was in a deep state of meditation, analyzing the situation, maybe facing his past, ignoring the man on the other side of the CODEC. "Nothing . . ."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Really, it's nothing. How's it going over there, Master Sergeant?"  
  
"All clear. I'm not expecting much more to come, either."  
  
"Good." Snake cut off.  
  
Elijah was now puzzled. What was the goal of Snake's call? He probably wanted to see how things were going, not really a crime, nothing he could blame him for.  
  
The ECLIPSE sniper closed his right eye and drove the left into the scope. All clear, he had been right.  
  
"Freeze!" The small hairs in the back of the Iraqi's neck suddenly froze, the feeling of cold steel pressed into his backbone. The voice, sporting a Russian accent and a violent tone, was loud enough to make Elijah Slervansk to stop aiming and turn around.  
  
His enemy, with the same uniform as the RPG crew, held his pistol with one hand, this time at the sniper's face. Elijah left his rifle there, and stood up to face his attacker. He now remembered, there was a guard in the rooftop.  
  
"You must be Yuri." The Kurd deducted, not gesticulating much, but still keeping his cool.  
  
"You were the one who killed Dmitri, you American prick!"  
  
Elijah quickly grabbed his Beretta, but it only gave his enemy the chance to remove the safety of the Makarov pointed at his face.  
  
"Drop the gun."  
  
"As you wish." He complied, ht nine millimetres hitting the floor softly.  
  
"You aren't an American . . . What are you doing here."  
  
"My job"  
  
"So am I" Yuri responded, staring at Slervansk's focused blue eyes. "Tell me, why to die for a foreign country?"  
  
"I'm not fighting for the United States"  
  
"Then what are you fighting for?"  
  
"To fix a mistake, and pay a debt." The Middle Eastern admitted.  
  
"So are we." The Russian said, blankly. After all, this young man (probably Armenian or Kurdish) wasn't so different than he was, right? After all, it seemed as the two men didn't have any real reason to be enemies, right?  
  
Thinking was a mistake. The second the terrorist decided that he and Slervansk, should the circumstances be different, could be friends, the ECLIPSE sniper quickly grabbed for his handgun and kicked the Tango's left leg, bending it and forcing him to fall, while dropping the Makarov to the floor.  
  
He hit the floor violently, and quickly woke up from his dreams of peace, and Elijah quickly aimed his Beretta to the enemy's head, as he kicked the Makarov away.  
  
"So, the sides have turned." Elijah didn't seem satisfied. He was doing a job. A dirty, oppressive, horrible job that still had to be done.  
  
"You traitorous dog . . ." He reached for his radio, but it was no use. 33 minutes away from Satellite Uplink, the Iraqi smirked. "Kill me, if you are man enough."  
  
"I don't kill for sport." Now he was quoting HER. Not that he did it on purpose. In his opinion, the FOX-HOUND operative Sniper Wolf was his antithesis. The Ying to his Yang.  
  
"Coward . . ." The Russian spitted in disgust.  
  
"Think as you like." The Kurd wasn't affected by the insult. "The point is, I have the gun now. Tell me who are you working for, and I'll let you go. If you don't, then I'll just stay here until all your friends are fertilizer, capiche?"  
  
"I'll never tell you anything!" "I won't ask this again. Who are you working for?"  
  
"You want to know, swine?" Yuri seemed grimly confident now, his brown eyes flaming in hatred towards his opponent, in contrast to Elijah's expressionless blue eyes. Suddenly, he pulled his knife out his sheath, and stabbed it viciously at the ECLIPSE agent's thigh, but luckily for the antiterrorist agent, the terrorist didn't extend his arm, making a superficial cut, piercing the skin and veins, yet not touching the muscle, failing to hamper the sniper's movement, but enough pain to drop him down.  
  
The Russian jumped up wards and grabbed his Makarov. He couldn't help but smiled when he turned around at an amazing speed to put and end to the sharpshooter's life, but as he drove his eyes to the blond-haired killer, he noticed that Slervansk himself was pointing a gun at him, from the floor.  
  
The Kurd pulled the trigger twice, the first nine-millimetre bullet piercing the Kevlar, and going through the skin, muscle, bone, heart, bone, muscle and skin, piercing him perfectly. The second, aimed higher due to the recoil, impacted his in the lower throat, splitting his neck in two.  
  
The Russian fell to his knees, and then dropped silent into the floor of the rooftop. Elijah checked the wound in his thigh. It wasn't bad, he could walk, maybe run, not sprint, due to the pain, since his muscles were untouched. Still, with great effort, he pulled himself upwards, and checked Yuri's body.  
  
Useless, he was dead. The Iraqi didn't smile; he even had to shake his head to shake off the feeling that he was a ruthless killer Just like HER. It was wrong to kill someone. But he was defending his own life; he was defending his friends, and the nation that employed him. The conversation before still bothered him. Was he loyal to America?  
  
He reached into his pocket, and grabbed some painkillers. Due to the size of the pill, he felt like he couldn't swallow it, so he pushed them down his digestive system with some water from his plastic bottle, strapped to his backpack. To think that SHE used to be addicted to pills of that same size gave him the creeps.  
  
But he remembered that despite his mission, he wasn't his sister, and he certainly didn't think like her. She was insane; he shook his head in disapproval for her actions. Well, back to work. The painkillers would probably ease the pain, but not help aiming, like Diazepam or Pentazamin, and even not hamper his moving skills. Miracles of pharmaceutical technology, he still posed a threat to the enemy, even wounded.  
  
He then bandaged the wound, from his sniper nest. Really tight, so he could keep fighting. After all those treatments, he felt like he never had been stabbed.  
  
-- -- --  
  
"Command, this is Epsilon leader, I'm at the first floor." Robert Bogart said, the slightly overweight team leader said, barely opening the stairway's door and looking through the G36's scope. He was a bit large, yeah, but that didn't mean he didn't know how to fight. He was fierce, and knew what he was doing.  
  
"Roger. This is Eclipse Six. Listen, Epsilon, your next objective is to reach the dining room. We expect an important group of hostages to be there." Snake explained, coolly and precisely, to the team.  
  
"Let's go!" The team leader opened the door fully, and ran to the hall, followed by John Dolph, who checked the team's 6 O'clock, that is, their back.  
  
John was a bit over-excited after his gunfight in the stairs. He had been in combat twice in his life, one among the 1st Marine Division fighting through Southern Iraq. He achieved the rank of Lieutenant (out of his own effort, he would say), and joined because his father, Scott Dolph, who was a Major at the time, recommended him. After the war was over, his father was promoted to Commandant, that is, chief of the Marine Corps, and he had to take care of his family.  
  
After the death of his father in 2007, (in an incident that was heavily discussed in the news) he was called in for duty, this time to be called to the Balkans, as a Green Beret, in order to join the Romanian Army near the former Yugoslavia border, in an attempt to fight off the Serbian insurgents. Due to the undercover nature of his Mission, his smaller sister (Helena, by the time married with Colonel Jackson, of the Navy SEAL antiterrorism training squad Dead Cell) was told that John had been killed in a helicopter crash in the Marine base in Quantico, near the FBI academy. The usual CIA fairy-tale.  
  
During his time there, his squad was sent to rescue a group of Romanian soldiers, who had been ambushed by Serbs a few days earlier and got lost in the forest. After a two day-LRRP (Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol), they found him. The only survivor had been the platoon sniper, who happened to be Nikolai Machuttes, who was a Lieutenant at the time.  
  
The return (through a dense forest) had been the most intense 48 hours in John's life; Nick and the Green Berets fought through the forest, fighting off the Serbian irregulars. Due to their "Irregular" condition, the Serbs did not wear uniforms and were constantly ambushing and booby-trapping the US Special Forces detachment. He clearly remembered, when John's team had been barraged with gunfire, and most of them were lying on the ground, he could still hear gunfire coming from his foxhole.  
  
It was Machuttes, who was firing his SVD Dragunov (A high-quality Russian semiautomatic sniper rifle) franticly at a group of advancing Serbs. The American was amazed by the Romanian's attitude and skills; he then tapped him in the shoulder. When the thin-faced, scared guy turned around, John couldn't help but smile at him, and give him a word of comfort.  
  
"Hey, I would let you cover me anytime."  
  
Those days were long gone. John was a sort of dishonour to the family; After all, his father (and recently his sister) was in the Marine Corps, while he served in the army. He was then transferred to Germany, staying in the old Cold-War era bases. With time, he was informed of all the disasters his family was suffering in the USA; his brother-in-law was sent into jail and committed suicide, his sister suffered a miscarriage, and his mother died of Depression.  
  
He felt like had to go back home, and support his sister, yet he remembered that he was officially dead. He remained there, until his own sister died, during the Big Shell incident. What John didn't know was that she was one of the terrorists.  
  
A few days later, a guy in a suit took him in a VC-20B (the military version of the Gulfstream III) to Fort Meade, thus being the first member of ECLIPSE in being recruited. He then discovered that Nikolai Amerstraus, that Romanian sniper, was in ECLIPSE's list. He provided the necessary intelligence for his extraction and he became a member of ECLIPSE himself.  
  
Since then, they became friends and brothers at arms. Right now, he was a support marksman, but John respected Nikolai and let him be his own way. He held his G36 up, and followed Bogart. This mission should be interesting . . .  
  
"What are you doing?" Bogart turned to see his partner. He was a attaching a cylindrical shaped device to the lower area of the barrel of his G36.  
  
"This, my dear Bobby, is an AG36 40mm grenade launcher. The German counterpart to the American M203." He responded, while finishing the attachment process.  
  
"Excuse me, but isn't that like, too extreme?"  
  
"Nothing is too extreme against these bitches."  
  
"Dude! Look! You were shot!" Bogart's eyes dropped to John's stomach, where the Kevlar had been broken and it was hard to see.  
  
"Yeah, it stings a little bit, but I think the Kevlar stopped the round. If it wasn't for the ceramic reinforcements, I'd be playing the harp now. "  
  
"How can ceramics stop a bullet? If I drop a plate it breaks!"  
  
"The Kevlar is used to keep the ceramic rupture from expanding. The ceramic cracks alright, but it's contained."  
  
"Oh."  
  
-- -- --  
  
"This is all wrong . . ." Snake though aloud, near Hal Emmerich, still trying to hack into the Embassy's security system, not just individual security cameras. Eclipse Six never considered Otacon a nerd; he didn't use the computer like on (the stereotype only typed in the keyboard, while Otacon used the Mouse often).  
  
The mission was going well so far; No wounded, no dead, he felt like he didn't have to worry. But he did. It was much easier to be the grunt, to not take decisions, to trust your Commander. But now he was the commander, the face on the other side of the CODEC. The responsibility was large, only beaten in size by the insecurity any moment of calm caused. Was Campbell feeling like this in Zanzibar and Shadow Moses? If any of them died . . . It would be his failure.  
  
But, just like in Shadow Moses, all was fucked up. Why were Vereyanka and Vassov, two SVR agents (The KGB's International operations department, formerly known as "3rd Directory"), working with Ocelot? What was their motive, their purpose? He reached for his phone and made a call.  
  
"William Sharp." The CSA picked up, quickly.  
  
"Will? This is Snake. Where is Monroe?"  
  
"She's here with me and Dr. Hanson, in the NSA headquarters. Why?"  
  
"I need you guys to do some Intel analysis." Snake said, diplomatically. "Dr. Emmerich here will send you a transcript of an enemy conversation one of my boys picked up." He signalled Otacon to do so. "I want you to find out more about the speakers, and figure out what they'll do next."  
  
"Good. Hanson can do that."  
  
"OK, call you later"  
  
-- -- --  
  
He had reached the street. His .300 Winchester was hanging off his back, and he held his pistol (a Beretta M9) with his Nomex-clad left hand, while kneeling. That should not be so hard; the front park seemed clear from the building in front of it, but he knew he shouldn't get cocky.  
  
Nikolai ran (in a compact manner, without showing off and doing the least movement possible) to the entrance. The metal door was open (the terrorists didn't close it... Worse for them). Following what his training said, he shifted the weight of his body to the left side, so he started falling and could see the interior of the security cabin.  
  
Inside, stood a guard. He seemed asleep, sitting in his chair, wearing his helmet low, in a cheap desk, like taking a nap at work. However, that would be from the outside. In a closer inspection, (Nick walked slowly, "stalking" like his partner would say) and removed the helmet.  
  
The eyeball was crushed into the skull, opening the way to the bullet. The other was still open, blocked by the helmet. Nick stopped. Why didn't the wound bleed? He reached for it . . . It was disgusting, reaching into the open skull . . . But it was rewarding; the terrorists had put a piece of cotton inside what used to be a brain, so it would absorb the blood and keep it from bleeding, thus without causing suspicion among the pedestrians.  
  
He heard something; The Embassy door suddenly shut open, event he caught with the corner of his eye. A group of men rushed outside; grey-white pattern uniforms, Kalashnikov Rifles, ski masks . . . Not Russian Army regulars. Didn't move or hold their weapons as such. Probably those ex Spetz Naz.  
  
Why did they go outside? Maybe because they didn't yet know they were being invaded, thus trying to establish new defensive perimeters. Charming. The Romanian had been there before. At that distance (not much more than 25 feet) the Sniper Rifle would be useless. The handgun would be too noisy, the second he killed one, the others would demolish his skull with gunfire.  
  
Remember, Nikolai. Why are you here? Because you are a member of ECLIPSE. Why are you a member of ECLIPSE? Because of my cousin. What was your cousin's specialty?  
  
Then it hit him. His knife.  
  
He took it out of its sheath. He looked at it deeply. He couldn't have guessed he would use it. It was long, made of sparkling metal, with an impressively sharp side. Was it in him? Stabbing? Slashing? Gutting? Please . . .  
  
But again, that was his only choice, and damn he would use it.  
  
OK . . . First step, recon. One enemy was near him, in the left flank (1). Two were in the middle, near the KGB car (2 and 3). And one last, in the right flank (4). He would have to kill 1, and possibly 2 and 3. Four could be avoided, but it was a risk he did not desire to face voluntarily.  
  
He walked out the cabin, staying crouched, hidden in the dark. Guard n. 1, or simply 1, was walking towards him, but he couldn't see him. The morons didn't have NVGs... Well, he didn't either.  
  
He hid near a set of bushes. He wondered if the Embassy's gardener was among the hostages. The terrorist stopped less than 10 feet off the bushes, and Nick held the knife strongly. He "stalked" his way towards the back of 1.  
  
What part of the body would he have to stab first? The throat, probably, so the bastard wouldn't be able to scream and ask for reinforcements. Or the lung, which stood a larger target, and had the same effect.  
  
1 was still looking at the Embassy, instead of patrolling, thing that could have kept him alive. Vamp's cousin leaped behind him, grabbing his throat violently, keeping him from screaming, and then stabbed with all his strength the chest of the Russian. It was tougher than what movies showed, and it took a hell lot more of strength.  
  
1 still tried to shout, so Nick knew he had to cut his air supply and fast. His knife was still lodged in his opposition's lung, and the Romanian suddenly, yet viciously twisted the knife, opening the lung and releasing the Tango's air supply, killing him instantly.  
  
The struggle ended, Nick dropped the body. Dead. Nick didn't wipe the knife (The tangos wouldn't care if they got AIDS if they were being stabbed), but didn't lick it, like that DEAD CELL freak probably could have. He then switched to his next target, 2.  
  
He crawled towards the black car in which the KGB operatives had arrived. Behind it, two Alpha troopers were standing, slightly less alert than the last one. He hid behind the dark car, while listening to the enemy.  
  
"So, what's the deal with this General Ivan guy?" 3 asked, his AK hanging from its strap, held by 3's hand.  
  
"I heard he is a good friend of Captain Steyanovich. I heard he was a KGB spook, too."  
  
"Really?"  
  
Nikolai hid behind the back of the car, while the two terrorists were distracted, talking. He jumped behind him, and slit his throat open, spraying blood. His partner, shocked, pulled the AK 's bolt and raised it, aiming at the Romanian's face. Nick then bended his elbow and threw the knife. That landed right in the Russian's throat, killing him instantly. The other one, still alive, made an exaggerated intent to breathe, and the burst of air going through his severed larynx was enough to bust it open and killing him.  
  
Three out, one to go.  
  
He crawled towards a bush, staring at the remaining Russian guard. He was checking something . . . It was the sniper's body. The chest had one tiny hole, at the height of the heart, and then a second nastier one in the head, a few inches from the ear. A Dragunov (the rifle he had used in his time with the Romanian army) lay next to the enemy sharpshooter. The other Russian looked at the body. Logic told enemy reinforcements were on their way, but Snake had informed him of the enemy's current situation.  
  
There was no need to kill this one, though. Crawled out, stood up and "stalked" his way towards the main door, a large, old, wooden door, sort of odd, since the communist designers tried to stay away from the Tsarist Russia's designs. It was closed, but unlocked. Plain luck, maybe? He walked in, to the belly of the beast.  
  
-- -- --  
  
Private Sean Rodriguez was now on the run; he wasn't discovered, but did he want to stay? Hell no. He was so desperate he was doing the most idiotic thing an Infiltrator (that is, a spy without a disguise) could do.  
  
However, the terrorists were in chaos, and his Beretta M92FS with a high quality silencer was ready to fire, resting in his left hand. Fifteen rounds in the magazine, and one already in the chamber. Besides, he had two additional magazines and a scout knife.  
  
He was still in the third floor; After all, he spent most the time since eavesdropping Ocelot trying to get out of the service passage, which was quite a stunt.  
  
A corner. What lay beyond it was a mystery. He reached that point, and he shrugged. Maybe someone was expecting him, and would shoot him as he walked right into their sights. But he couldn't just stay there . . . He made up his mind; it was now or never.  
  
When the first hundred muscles set in position to drag Sean's body, the Scout almost had a heart attack, and after muffled sounds, a sort or Rocket flew past the corner and hit the wall. The figure was hard to see and surprisingly it didn't detonate, just bashed itself into the wall. But it wasn't a rocket. It was a body.  
  
A Russian soldier, his body filled with holes, and it gave Sean courage to see what threw him.  
  
"Thank god!"  
  
Joshua Machuttes enormous body stood before him, the large soldier had a suppressed G36K with Laser sight, gun that was large enough to make Sylvester Stallone shiver to death, and a balaclava (not much more than a military issue Ski Mask). He couldn't see his face, but it was obvious, with his large body and confident stance.  
  
"Sean! I though you had to rendezvous with Bobby and John. " The Sergeant said, extending his hand to hand shake the Mexican. The scout didn't budge.  
  
"Didn't find them, big guy."  
  
"Where are the hostages, Sean?" Just then, a small (not much more than 1,55 meters) woman (wearing the same black BDU than Joshua) walked in, behind the muscular Inuit. Nadia Slonoskvo walked a bit more tensely that Joshua, she wasn't used to the combat high.  
  
"I'll show the way . . ."  
  
"Good," Joshua interrupted. "You sure you don't want a larger gun?" He said, taking a pitiful look at the nine millimetres in Sean's hand. Josh despised low calibre weapons. He liked feeling the power on his hands, and besides, why to kill a man using two 9mm bullets when he could blow him off with a single .45?  
  
"If I only had your fists, Josh . . ." Sean said, relaxing himself, ignoring for a second that his life was on the line. "Show me that . . ."  
  
Joshua pulled the Kalashnikov tied to his backpack, and gave it to the Latin soldier. Sean looked deeply at the gun, while Josh gave him some additional magazines. It was strange; supposedly, ECLIPSE always would use its own equipment. But shit, the AK-74 was an effective piece and why should not he use it?  
  
"OK, let's move it . . ."  
  
-- -- --  
  
"Commander?" It was Sub-Commander Katya Monroe, in her usual dark tone, not saying much.  
  
"Yeah, what's up?"  
  
"My team has figured out why the SVR is present at the Embassy."  
  
"Ok, spit it out already!"  
  
"Connections, Commander. To run an operation like this, it would be necessary to have someone taking care of the logistics. Weapons, transport personnel, even informants. The backbone of the assault force was members of the former Soviet Military, but these men have no connections here to establish themselves in American soil."  
  
"Didn't Ocelot say they were negotiating?"  
  
"That also confused us, but we got around it; for what the Washington PD sent us, there wasn't a constant conversation between the terrorists and the authorities, but quick messages through E-Mail. Still, I guess they just sent a message."  
  
"So you are saying that Vassov and Vereyanka are here to establish logistics and outside support?"  
  
"That's right. Dr. Hanson also suggested that this operation is too large for only being a single strike, and besides, their demands are too much for what they threat."  
  
"What are you suggesting?"  
  
"That this may be only just one smaller part of a larger operation."  
  
"Shit."  
  
"I know. Why would they bother bringing all that equipment to the US for a single strike? Why do they consider Sobrietsky so important that he's worth REX? I think this is just the tip of the Iceberg. Besides, I have the feeling the Russian Regulars are about to be betrayed."  
  
"Say that again?"  
  
"Sir, Ocelot has brought Assault Rifles, Kevlar vests, Russian Mafia members and god knows what else into the country, somehow. This operation seems thoroughly planned. Shalashaska is a member of FOX-HOUND, remember? How can a man of his tactical genius overlook the fact that the satellite would be out of range at some point?"  
  
"Which means?"  
  
"Which means that he was expecting it to happen. According to the guard position our team has reported, Arbatov's men are set in the limits of the Embassy, while Steyanovich's troops are in the middle. In case of radio silence, the Army Regulars are sitting ducks to an organized assault."  
  
"Why would Ocelot want to get rid of the Army Regulars?"  
  
"I don't know." She admitted. "But let's face it; Ocelot is, believe it or not, a PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) sufferer. He acts like he is in combat anytime. Do you think he has the ability to trust anyone? "  
  
"I know I don't trust him." Snake said, hissing. "Thanks, Katya"  
  
"You are welcome, Commander"  
  
"May I ask for something else?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I want a background on all the four names mentioned, Vereyanka, Vassov, Steyanovich and Arbatov."  
  
"Will do, sir."  
  
"Thanks, Katya." The finished the communication.  
  
-- -- --  
  
"OK, people, this is the plan." Joshua said, staring into the revealed eyes of the two agents following him. At the same time, he stared at the door that led to the Ambassador's apartment. Their faces seemed expectant, visible since their Ski masks were pulled up, covering their hair and upper forehead, but they would have to put them on completely when they got into combat. "Nadia, give your flash bangs to Sean. Sean, I'll open the door a bit. If I don't get spotted, I want you to chuck two flash grenades inside. "  
  
"And then?" Sean was sceptical. Joshua wasn't a genius tactician, and this was no time to risk anything.  
  
"We bust in and use those seven seconds to send those mother fuckers to hell, without letting them fry the hostages."  
  
"And what if you get spotted?" Nadia asked, while handing the two Stun Grenades to Sean.  
  
"We'll get into some serious fire fight."  
  
The team got in position, while they pulled their balaclavas downwards to cover their faces. Nadia and Joshua set at the sides of the door, their G36K pointed at it. Sean set himself behind it, and raised Nadia flash bangs, one in each hand, waiting for the word.  
  
Joshua opened the door microscopically. Through the small area he could see through, he got what he wanted; Three Alpha team members patrolling it. A bunch of people in tuxedos, who were the hostages. Blindfolded and tied to the floor, in order to stop a rebellion. He was unnoticed. He then turned to Sean, and nodded.  
  
Sean pulled both pins simultaneously and threw one after the other. They landed on the wooden floor making a shy noise, but...  
  
""What was that?" One of the terrorists turned around, and noticed two cylindrical shaped metal devices in the floor. They didn't look like grenades, so he signalled his partners to go and take a look. And then, they detonated.  
  
The thunder of light pierced their eyes, making a blinding flash and a powerful noise, flooding their senses and overwhelming them. They were too confused; they didn't know what sort of shit was going on.  
  
ECLIPSE busted in, firing shots. The hostages began screaming. They were blindfolded, so they weren't victim of the Stun Grenades. But it was heart stopping to hear the explosion, and the door being busted open, not to mention gunfire.  
  
One of the Russians opened his irritated eyes, making a huge effort just to see Joshua Machuttes shooting a nine-round-burst at his head, turning it into a deformed mass that fell with the rest of the body. The other one heard the mess and started firing the Kalashnikov senselessly. Nadia quickly ducked to evade a burst.  
  
"We can't let them kill the hostages!" She shouted.  
  
"Fucking shoot him, then!" She head a distorted voice say. It was Sean just entering the room.  
  
Still kneeling behind the desk, she aligned the confused former Soviet soldier to the laser sight mounted on her G36K, aimed at his heart, and delivered a final shot, that went through the Kevlar and blowing his rib cage open, killing him.  
  
The last one had regained consciousness and aimed an AN-94 at Joshua's head, who was still searching for the third tango. He aimed at the huge head covered by the balaclava, an easy target.  
  
Joshua raised his eyes, and saw the man ready to finish him off. His heart stopped. It was over. The barrel of the gun was like the mouth of a dragon, now peaceful, but soon fire would emerge, finishing him. In times like those, time seemed to slow down, after the certain realisation that he wouldn't leave the place, except within a plastic bag.  
  
The Russian's finger seemed to tense. Joshua, still frozen, was ready to go back to mother nature, like his tribe would have called it. But then again, he left the tribe to join the "modern" world. It was over.  
  
He heard gunshots. In his slow-motion state of mind, he was sure the bullets were on their way to end his time in this world. Only the bullets weren't fired at him. Suddenly, the head of the terrorist pointing at him suddenly got nailed, and the combination of blood and brains was ejected like a reddish spray, being released upwards. Suddenly, a hell of bullets hit his attacker, demolishing his head and body, which twitched like if he was suffering an epileptic seizure, only dots of red appeared all over him. Half a second later, (yet to Joshua it seemed a couple of minutes) he fell silent. Time regained its normal flow, as Josh turned to see his saviour.  
  
"Sean! Shit! I fucking owe you one!" he said, looking at the advancing soldier and the energized hostages, pathetically trying to escape, unable to do so.  
  
"Yeah, I know" the Latin said, smiling, lowering the half-clipped AK, that had saved Joshua's life. "You'll need to pay that back, eventually" The confident atmosphere was destroyed. A bullet flew threw the air and hit a couple of inches from Sean's head. A pistol bullet, according to the noise, and the bullet impacting the wall, and the ECLIPSE commandos ducked behind cover, and again scaring the shit out of the hostages, screaming through the duct tape.  
  
The team turned to see the shooter. A group of five men stormed from the Ambassador's room; four of them were soldiers, with tactical camouflage, balaclavas and Assault Rifles trained at the three operatives. The fifth man, the shooter, in the middle, wore an overcoat, a camouflage underneath, and had an old Revolver in his hand, smoking. Nadia recognised him in seconds- the man she had killed in VR:  
  
Revolver Ocelot.  
  
"Freeze!" He shouted, in that Russian accented voice. Some more men entered, as the four shooters closed in ECLIPSE. Among them, were two KGB officers, and the commander of the Alpha team, Captain Steyanovich, and the commander of the Regulars, Major Arbatov.  
  
"Shalshaska, what should we do?" Steyanovich asked Ocelot. The former FOX- HOUND operator assessed his options. Suddenly, Joshua started shooting his G36K at the tangos, killing one of the Alpha soldiers, as the rest ducked for cover.  
  
The Alpha troopers jumped out of cover and fired back, destroying the wall and wounding the hostages, with pieces of material flying off, making a constant thunder, that seemed to last for ever  
  
"Hold you fire!" Ocelot then shouted, "I said, hold you fire!" The soldiers stopped, but still kept their sights on the cover of the ECLIPSE Bravo team. "I want to negotiate with you!" He shouted.  
  
The look in the antiterrorists' faces was surprise. Why would Ocelot want to speak with them?  
  
"What do you want?" Joshua, the officer of superior rank, asked.  
  
"First, drop your radios, then slide them in my direction..."  
  
They complied, and threw the small black boxes (only the snipers were issued CODECs) to the terrorists. One of the KGB Colonels picked up one, and Ocelot grabbed the other one. The rest were still trying to keep the ECLIPSE Assault Shooter behind their cover.  
  
Ocelot stared at the black box, and pressed the red button.  
  
"Hello? Who am I speaking with?" Ocelot asked, the rough voice being a torment through the channel.  
  
"Ocelot?"  
  
"Solid Snake . . ."  
  
-- -- --  
  
Author's note: I hope you enjoyed this chap. I'm sorry I took so long, it's just that my PC was upgraded, and well... In any case, I also apologize for the orthographical mistakes. I don't know if they exist, but . . .  
  
Thanks:  
  
-Simon Wolf-Gough (Who has Beta-Read this chapter and helped me all the way through)  
  
-AgentFisher (Who asked me if he could be a Beta reader, too bad I couldn't contact him)  
  
-site #1 (who gave me information on the massacre of Kurds on Halabja, that helped big time on the creation of Elijah's bio)  
  
-site #2 (Weapons information)  
  
-The History Channel (Info on the KGB and the whole Ceramic protection deal)  
  
-Thomas L. Clancy (my favourite author, who inspired me into doing this)  
  
-And the rest, who I can't remember right now, but you know who you are. 


	9. Chapter 7: All in a split second

Chapter 7: All in a split second  
  
"Ocelot?" Snake's voice, probably for the first time in his life since Meryl left him, started croaking. He was broken; nothing made sense.  
  
"Solid Snake?" The voice of the devil came back to him, and Snake turned his hand into a fist to let go of the adrenaline. "What a pleasant surprise."  
  
"Save it, you son of a bitch!" Snake shouted, and wavered to Otacon to hack into the Security Camera: The Technocrat was stunned: ECLIPSE team Bravo was pinned down by three armed soldiers and a group of men, among them Ocelot, who was confidently speaking through the radio.  
  
"Snake, who would have foreseen that you had joined the Patriots."  
  
"You work for them to begin with, you stinking piece of shit. What happened to Liquids arm, and RAY? " Snake forgot secrecy. None of his men knew what had gone on that April 30th, and he didn't really give a fuck.  
  
"If you mean that bothersome appendix . . ." He looked down, to his arm, smaller than the last time Snake saw it. Of course, back in the day, that arm seemed inflated in comparison to the rest of Ocelot's anatomy. "I got rid of it. As of RAY, well, let's just say my friends in the Russian Black Market will have some fun rides with it. By the way, that intelligence on the patriots was bogus."  
  
"Congratulations, now what the fuck do you want?!"  
  
"It's not for me, really. You see, these two KGB Colonels are here to oversee our newest purchase."  
  
"REX?"  
  
"Exactly. Despite that Shadow Moses was a particularly destructive event, one of the buyers of that little MO disk was the La-Li-Lu-Le-Lo" Ocelot seemed to ignore his men, as well. At the same time, Colonel Vassov grabbed the other radio.  
  
"So, you are done working for the Patriots."  
  
"They hired me in the first place." Ocelot explained, in that "know-it-all" tone that gave Snake the urge of shooting his crotch. "My contract is over."  
  
"So now you run guns with your good ol' friends from the Soviet Union, charming."  
  
"If you want to put it that way . . ." Ocelot turned to his men. Otacon's eyes were also tracking them. It was no surprise, Vassov and Vereyanka were unsurprised. Steyanovich seemed surprised, but he was controlled. But Arbatov was getting jumpy. The regular Russian didn't go to the bathroom without planning, and in combat situations (when even the most reckless American would do a plan) being with one made the Russians loose morale quickly. "Snake, actually I do have one request." "Make it quick."  
  
"I want a ride for me, Colonels Vassov and Vereyanka, and Captain Steyanovich and his men." Jack wrote it all down on paper, giving a total of 11 people, enough to fit in a Blackhawk chopper, namely Charlie's.  
  
"What about Major Arbatov and his boys?" Snake asked, trying to detonate Arbatov. It worked. "Any way, I will keep my word, as long as you don't kill the hostages. Do we have a deal?" Ocelot nodded, while watching Arbatov.  
  
"He is right, Ocelot. You won't leave me!" Arbatov shouted. Snake had seen Ocelot turning over his allies; he had with Gurklukovich, with Solidus . . . And now with Arbatov.  
  
"I'm sorry, Major, but you and the grunts can go to hell!" Ocelot was playing it as usual: He would now wait until Arbatov lost his temper and gave him a reason to kill him.  
  
Yet Arbatov remained still, frozen by fear. Gurlukovich and Solidus were brave men, and Arbatov was now betrayed by authority. How could it be? Arbatov had been raised his whole life taking orders; from his father, from his Sergeant, from the Communist Party . . . The idea of betrayal by either of those parties was unthinkable.  
  
So he stood there, frozen. Ocelot's usual plan had not worked, but Ocelot didn't budge; he pulled out his Colt Single Action. Snake didn't say a word. Would he kill the hostages? The ECLIPSE operators? Arbatov?  
  
Ocelot as turned, bending his arm and fired, the .45 Magnum bullet was ejected from the gun, braking the air away as it lunged through Major Arbatov's brain, turning his grey matter into a reddish fluid that painted the door.  
  
The smoke dispersed, as the brainless Arbatov fell, blood oozing from his mouth, and the eyes wide open, staring into the nothing. Ocelot twirled his gun, as he moved it at the height of his mouth and blew the smoke out of the hot barrel, like in a Western. He turned to Steyanovich.  
  
"Captain, order one of your remaining response team to trap Arbatov's troops in the dining room. We have a surprise there for them." For some reason, Snake felt like Ocelot had forgotten he left the radio on, but then again, knowing Ocelot, chances were slim.  
  
"Yes sir, I'll take the men from the basement. I can't call them by Radio, so I'll order it myself."  
  
"Of course. Are those men willing to die for their cause?"  
  
"As any Spetz Naz, my general. My self, I'll take the other team and secure the Heliport in order to receive our Limo." Snake just then realized of his mistake; If Steyanovich and his grunts went to the Heliport, Elijah would be in deep shit. "These three will take care of our American friends," he said as he watched the cowering ECLIPSE Bravo members.  
  
"Don't worry, I'll go with you." Ocelot clarified. "Vereyanka, you will also come with us. Vassov?"  
  
"Yes, my general?" The young KGB Colonel asked, enthusiasm burning in his eyes.  
  
"Take one of the hostages, Mr. Stevens there, and go to the rooftop. Negotiate with the capitalist hogs." Vassov stared wildly into James's eyes. He was skinny and his hair the usual pulled back using some sort of gel. The business man 's mind seemed to erupt in fear, as Vassov grabbed him and put the Skorpion he had brought with him up James's neck, and dragged him out of the room.  
  
"Ocelot, I hate to interrupt" Vereyanka forced Ocelot to face him. "But we may have to take a hostage. Might I recommend our beloved VIP hostage, Ambassador Andrei Sobrietsky?"  
  
"Good thinking." Ocelot said. "As for Snake . . ." He raised the Colt Single Action, and fired at the camera, making a show of spars as Otacon backed from the monitor when he saw the image turn into a fest of white and gray. Ocelot cut communication with Snake, too.  
  
Ocelot and company walked out, except for the three Alpha Commandos. They all got into combat stance. A firefight was the only thing either team visualized in the future. Joshua attacked first: He didn't even jump out of cover: He turned (he had his back resting in the turned table he used as cover) and started firing through the expensive wood, the bullets easily piercing it and lodging themselves in one of the commandos. The other two fired through the wood as well, as Joshua rolled out of cover and fired, yet this time the enemy took cover.  
  
It was clear: As good defenders of the Marxist way of life, the former Spetz Naz weren't able to deal with surprises, but when they had come up with a plan, they were invincible.  
  
Nadia ran out of cover, firing and keeping the tango low. The hostages were still moaning, hearing the "discussion of lead". Sean also peeked out of cover and started firing his AK; pinning down the two terrorists.  
  
Neither of them gave up. From their trench, behind the Ambassador's desk, they threw a Russian made grenade that twirled in the air, towards Sean's improvised foxhole. At the same time, Nadia went into a prone position in a few seconds after almost being hit by a burst of Kalashnikov fire, and now she was afraid of moving an inch, with the fear of being hit by both friendly and enemy fire. All in a split second.  
  
The grenade fell right next to the concentrated Sean Rodriguez. The Mexican scout grabbed an additional magazine for the AK, from a near terrorist body, as he saw it: The greenish round device from hell; a grenade. Soviet made grenades had longer fuses than the American M67. Sean punched it, sending out of his foxhole.  
  
The explosive bounced off the wall and exploded in the middle of the furious crossfire, the shrapnel (a high quantity of metal shards disposed to be spread all over with the explosion, practically doing more damage than the explosion itself) stabbing everything near it.  
  
Nadia was still cowering, probably in panic. As the higher ranking officer, Joshua needed to be the hero. He raised his G36K and fired at the lights above the terrorists, the rain of sparks burning them through the Kevlar. They were screaming, knowing that the distraction of pain meant the enemy was preparing an attack, so they kept firing, trying to keep the ECLIPSE team at bay. Their mistake was to fire in Sean and Joshua's direction, forgetting Nadia.  
  
She was now a ball of nerves. Joshua didn't order it, but she felt it was her duty; it was HER job to finish of those commie pricks, no matter what. And she had given the chance. It was like when she had to rappel. Did she want to do it? No. Was she scared? Yes. But then, she remembered something the Tactical Advisor, Jack Sears, told her when she was scared during her first heavy weapon training session. She could still hear, among the gun fire, Sears's voice.  
  
"Being brave is not being afraid of nothing, that's just being an idiot. Being brave is having fear, I dare to say that you should be shitting your pants, but still getting up and doing the mother fucking job."  
  
She could hear Jack, still, as she got up, gritting her teeth, and then she stood up, aimed the G36K, just as one of the terrorist spotted her and called his comrade's attention.  
  
By the time they looked at that woman in SWAT outfit, she smashed the trigger; a haze of 5.56 x 45mm bullets jumped from the mouth of her rifle, punching through the balaclavas and killing both of them, the bullets that pieced one terrorist lodged in the other, living (at the time), terrorist. All three enemies were dead.  
  
-- -- --  
  
John stopped; his mind focus on what was ahead, as his Green Beret trainer repeated to him in all exercises. The blood was pumping, as Bobby Bogart checked the door.  
  
"Fuck, it's locked," Booby commented. "Listen, I can't blow this shit. Not without nailing the hostages. I'll try to pick the lock." He finished, pulling out the lock picks. John looked at the corridor they had come though. Clear.  
  
"So, enjoying this ride?"  
  
"Kidding? I'm about to puke. It's too much tension." He said, fighting the lock.  
  
"Sure. Hey, are you sure this is the mess hall?"  
  
"A hundred percent, man. I've studied the plan of the Embassy on the way here."  
  
"What for?"  
  
"Possible bomb locations."  
  
"You are kidding right? Damn Bob, you are so funny"  
  
"John, chances are the terrorists left a bomb near the hostages. It is the quickest form of elimination. I shit you not."  
  
John became alert again. He was having a bad feeling.  
  
"Done." The bomb disposal agent informed. "Check for hostiles."  
  
John complied, and opened the door violently. Amazingly, no hostages were present. The dining room was large, a light blue toned walls, with long tables. Obviously not meant for the usual Embassy diners, more like for feeding the Embassy personnel. There wasn't much cover (except hiding below the tables) so combat would be quick.  
  
"There!" One of the Russians shouted, sitting in one of the tables, turning and alerting another comrade, waiting by the kitchen. In that second, John put a bullet right into the first terrorist, sending him flying him off, with a bullet stuck in his head. The other one fired once, hitting the door that Dolph had opened, The African-American blasted in, while Bobby followed him, shooting and hitting the bastard in the chest, killing him.  
  
The battle was quick, but suddenly, over eight of Arbatov's troops came in from the kitchen and they all set into firing position, all near each other, causing a huge firestorm. But they had ignored that one of the antiterrorists (John Reilly Dolph) had a grenade launcher attached to his assault rifle.  
  
The private rolled out of the way of the first rain of lead, and from below a table, he pressed the trigger forward to the magazine, activating the Grenade launcher; a 40mm round of silver colors flew towards the terrorist contingent, hitting in the middle of the human mass.  
  
A sudden ball of fire, followed by an explosion, appeared, sending the terrorists flying in all directions, bashing themselves at the walls of the dinning room. The two counter terrorists whispered, releasing the adrenaline.  
  
"What a show!" Both turned, to see a familiar face.  
  
"Nick! You worthless son of a bitch!" Dolph joked, in his own way of saying his buddy that he loved him, as he hugged him. Bogart was the only one of alert now. The other ones were relaxed, yet Robert felt something was not right.  
  
"Nick, what's going on?"  
  
"We only have 20 minutes left before satellite uplink."  
  
"Wait, I need to call Snake." John pulled out his radio, and called the ETHQ.  
  
"Commander Snake?"  
  
"Snake here. What's up?"  
  
"Boss, no hostages at the dining room"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Yeah. I guess it was a barrack. Any ideas on where the hostages are held?"  
  
"Wait . . ." The commander looked at the Thermal Image of the Embassy. Besides the heat concentration in the Dining room there was no other. Where could they be? "Have you checked the guest rooms?"  
  
"No . . ."  
  
"I suggest you start there."  
  
Snake cut, and they both looked at Nikolai.  
  
"Listen, wanna join for the ride?"  
  
"Sure. I guess my accuracy rifle would work in this joint." He said, looking at his L96.  
  
"Sure. Let's rock these bitches!" After this line of bravado, Dolph reloaded his AG36 grenade launcher.  
  
Bogart walked swiftly to the door. A new mission objective. He reached for the door. No use, it was closed. It was the same one he had picked, so it was impossible it was locked. In other words, someone had blocked him and the rest. They were trapped.  
  
"Guys! Shit! They freaking got us!" he shouted.  
  
"Can't we blow the door?" Nick asked, looking at the torn apart corpses.  
  
"Nope. There's no amount of explosives I have to blow a door that is blocked like that."  
  
"So we are fucked?"  
  
"In other words . . ."  
  
"That's not our only problem . . ." Nick stopped, and turned to look at a black box near the first dead terrorist. It looked . . . Like a bomb!  
  
"Shit!" Bogart shouted. It was clearly Czechoslovakian made SEMTEX, attached to a barrel, likely filled with liquid.  
  
"What do you think that barrel has?" Dolph asked.  
  
"In the best case, kerosene. That would only kill us, but the rest of the facility would make it. This place is made to be flame resistant." He said, looking around.  
  
"And in the worst?"  
  
"Some sort of petroleum derivate cocktail. Probably gasoline mixed with some other petroleum derivate."  
  
"In English?" Nick asked.  
  
"Napalm." Dolph said, blankly  
  
"Oh shit"  
  
-- -- --  
  
"Snake!" Jack entered violently as always, not surprising Snake, (which is, by the way, impossible) but he did wake him up. And analyzing the situation was no fun.  
  
"What's up?"  
  
"Check the phone. We are being called by Barlett."  
  
"Barlett? As in Thomas Barlett, director of the National Security Agency?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I'll take it." Snake didn't know what to do. It wasn't usual to deal with such a high-profile character in the US intelligence community. "Hello?"  
  
"David . . ." Barlett's voice was disapproving, even when comforting you. He was completely well prepared, lacking human emotions; he was a well- greased machine, who though about business (in his case, Ciphering and deciphering transmissions, basic duty of the NSA).  
  
"I prefer Snake." Snake answered, cuttingly.  
  
"Sure, Snake." Barlett seemed to be a decent negotiator. "Am I to understand that you are still in negotiations with the terrorists?"  
  
"That's correct."  
  
"Snake, I just got word from the White House. They seemed to have come to a deal with the terrorists."  
  
"What? You negotiated with the terrorists behind my back, knowing I'm the one in charge?"  
  
"Relax, we are not giving REX. Bu t the situation has grown unbearable to both parties. Ocelot wants a breather."  
  
"By Ocelot you mean all the terrorists . . ."  
  
"No, just Ocelot. To my understanding, the rest of his associates are kept in the dark. I dare to say they think they are going to Cuba to reorganize their assault. They must believe they are the soviet Che Guevara."  
  
"Since you've performed so greatly undercover, why do you bring this to my attention?" Snake wanted to think it had never happened.  
  
"You see, Snake, Ocelot says in public he wants safety for his officers and his Elite. But he's lying. He knows he'll never get REX. I believe he just dragged the two KGB Colonels to make an over-done execution for his former comrades."  
  
"Why would he do that?" Snake wondered aloud.  
  
"Snake, listen. Steyanovich believes that one US agency is offering him salvation, the other one is attacking. The Alpha Team knows they are fucked. The problem with democracy is the lack of coordination between government entities. Vereyanka and Vassov know that. But we'll use that to our advantage. He may believe that the NSA is offering him salvation, and your boys offer death."  
  
"And this means?"  
  
"This means that to the eyes of his men, you are still enemies. Ocelot's men will believe they've been caught in a conflict of interests."  
  
"And what do we win?"  
  
"Ocelot lives, the rest dies."  
  
"You still haven't explained my why I need to know."  
  
"Because I want your pilot to pretend he is flying Ocelot to safety."  
  
"Why him?"  
  
"There are too many people involved already."  
  
"Aha." Snake realized that like always, he was a puppet.  
  
"That's it." Barlett finished dryly. "Bye."  
  
The phone disconnected, and Snake rubbed his head. "Go to hell."  
  
-- -- --  
  
Hal Emmerich was not made for this. The stress was overwhelming, and he didn't think of himself as strong enough to deal with the pressure. He had been "the contact" several times before, but this was not the same. Then, it was Snake, a mercenary, a hero, a man that feared no one.  
  
This time, it was just a bunch of kids. He was older than all of them (One year older than the eldest ECLIPSE, Joshua Machuttes) and he felt a connection. He was now in charge. Both Snake and Jack were entangled in a discussion with Monroe and her crew. It was unfair; five years ago, he didn't have any goddamn idea of concepts that now were daily for him.  
  
The tactical radio released a beep; He was getting a call. Snake was distracted, talking, so, why not?  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Who is this?" A Russian accented voice, that released hatred, sounded.  
  
Hal was frozen. He turned to Snake, while keeping the radio down.  
  
"Snake! Dr. Hanson is needed! I have a terrorist here!"  
  
Snake wavered out. Hanson was probably assessing what was the enemy plan. Otacon started thinking; What if he negotiated? He knew a bit, he was better talking that fighting, and that he was the only one that could do it. He took a look through the monitor, reflecting a satellite lens; a man with a radio stood in the rooftop, holding a gun to a man's neck, who was on his knees.  
  
"Can you hear me?"  
  
"Yes, I'm here."  
  
"What's you name?"  
  
"Call me . . ." He decided not to lie. He was becoming a negotiator. "My name is Doctor Hal Emmerich, Ph. D in . . ." He could have said he was an electro mechanics specialist, but he deiced to lie. "Ph. D in Criminal Psychology."  
  
"I'll instruct you on my terms, Doctor Emmerich. My name is Colonel Illich Vassov, from the Committee of State Security. You will refer to me as Colonel Vassov. Second, if you have any snipers aiming at me, I suggest you withdraw them, or otherwise I will kill the hostage. Finally, I will make it clear that in should any point my requests are not fulfilled, I'll kill James Stevens."  
  
"Colonel Vassov, may I ask first to you which are your demands?"  
  
"My associates have already asked for a helicopter. I want the promise that such won't go off course and won't be shut down until it reaches a country with no extradition treaty, namely Cuba."  
  
"That can be done" Hal wrote it down. No need, there was an NSA analyst doing a transcript.  
  
"Good."  
  
"Colonel, myself, I have a request. You can get your freedom, but we need you to give us the hostages."  
  
"Shut up, American imbecile!" Typical of the soviet style of negotiation, the Russian wanted to get and not give. "We also want the Metal Gear"  
  
"I'm afraid that's beyond us." Otacon informed. "Still, if you want the REX, I think you should let the hostages go."  
  
"Listen! I don't give a fuck what you think! You give me the ride and the Metal Gear, and James here lives!" Vassov shouted, while pressing the barrel of the Skorpion into James's scalp, the latter of which was sobbing.  
  
It was fucking impossible. How to negotiate with a psychopathic gorilla like Vassov? But he had to. There was no choice. He had to save James Stevens. But then, he doubted. Was he really that good of a negotiator? Back in Shadow Moses, he failed to stop Snake . . . he tried to clear his head. Probably Dr. Hanson would have Vassov eating of his hand, but Otacon had to focus.  
  
"I'm sorry, Vassov, but that's not enough. Even though a single man is more important to us than to you, Mr. Stevens is not worth the millions put in risk by Metal Gear."  
  
"Good! Don't give us the Metal Gear, I'll just kill Stevens!" The madman removed the safety of his Skorpion. Hal was frozen, but he had to act. Now he was the hero. Now he was saving lives.  
  
"No! That's not what I meant! Maybe we should find a balance!"  
  
"Look who's talking about balance! A capitalist, whose system defends a few rich and spits on the poor."  
  
"I'm sure capitalism has its flaws. But . . ."  
  
"Shut up! Can't you see you are the villains here! Yours is a system that values freedom more than life! I spit on your freedom!"  
  
"Listen, calm yourself. Capitalism and Communism have their differences, but both defend human life!" Hal was lying. The communists never gave shit about human life.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"OK, you are right. Capitalism is wrong and unfair, Communism is the right answer. But is it worth killing millions with Metal Gear?" Hal was lying again. He shuddered. He was like a politician, faking an opinion to save something. Only he was trying to save a life, whereas politicians try to save votes.  
  
"You are lying, Comrade Emmerich." Vassov dragged Stevens to face another direction, checking for snipers. Despite what Vassov confidently (and stupidly) thought, there was a sniper aiming at him. "But I'm not a barbarian like you. I have decided that I, belonging to a more civilized way of life, will let go of Mr. Stevens if you bring your helicopter here now."  
  
"Of course. Look southeast. See that chopper? It has been refueled and it's ready to transport you and your comrades to safety." What did he just say? He said he was the more civilized than him? In Hal's opinion, it was like if Hitler called Winston Churchill a "racist".  
  
"Ah! Who could say that I, a noble defender of the Marxist way of life was to agree with a shallow capitalist dog like you?" Otacon didn't get Vassov. He was clearly insulting him and his political beliefs, and he thought of himself as a hero. How stupidly tragic. "By the way, I lied"  
  
Otacon's heart stopped, as the terrorist turned of the radio, kicked Stevens (dropping him to the floor) and aimed the CZ Skorpion to his brain. Even watching him from space, like Otacon was, one could tell that Stevens was crying sincerely, afraid for his life.  
  
He had a wife, a daughter, and a baby boy. A family, and even if he had trouble at work, he would get out of his slump. He had a family, a home, and friends. How could this stupid motherfucker even have the courage to think he was entitled to kill him, just because he thought his political system was superior to his? Was politics worth killing a man, leaving a woman widow and two kids orphans? Andrei was right; these men were insane.  
  
Vassov was smiling, as he watched a desperate James and turned, looking at the warehouse/heliport. He then looked down and aimed at James. His huge smile was like that of a psychopath, glad to kill a representative of the capitalist war machine, like the members of the Politburo called them. He looked again upwards, in order to release the adrenaline of the execution.  
  
James felt like he was going to die. The maniac was looking upwards, releasing the thrill. He sobbed a bit, and then looked up at his killer. He was going to die. Yeah, he was. And there was nothing anyone could do about it.  
  
Vassov, released the tension, and then prepared to kill James. Just then, he stared into the warehouse/heliport, and watched a figure stand there. It was a man. Caucasian, blond, wearing a BDU similar to those he had seen in the Office. Yet this man was looking at him from a distance, and he had something in his arms. Then, Illich's smile disappeared, and then turned to into an expression similar to James's; the one of a man that realized that he was going to die. The blond man in the heliport was cradling in his arms . . .  
  
A sniper rifle.  
  
Elijah Mahmoud Slervansk aimed his G3/SG-1 to Vassov's head, while holding his breath to steady his aim, and pulled the trigger. The 7.62 x 51mm bullet was the fire ejected from the mouth of the dragon, speeding through the night, like an eagle closing on its prey.  
  
The bullet entered Vassov's head, pushing it backwards, and went all over through his brain, and finally going through Vassov's cerebellum and aorta artery, releasing its contents within Vassov's brain. Since his blood pressure was high due to the combat stress, the injured Aorta blew, literally forcing his head to explode.  
  
James Stevens was bathing in blood, as he saw Vassov's head less body fall, but he didn't care. He was still going to see his daughter and son again. He turned to the blond man with the sniper rifle. He wavered to him, like saying thanks.  
  
The blond man saluted him in a military style. They were more than 50 meters away, but both James and Elijah could see the one on the other side smiling. One was glad to be alive. And the other one was glad to help.  
  
James grabbed the radio, lying next to the stylishly decapitated corpse.  
  
"Hello? Who's there?"  
  
"I'm Dr. Hal Emmerich. Are you alright, sir?"  
  
"Are you the sniper that killed that man?"  
  
"That was me" Elijah interrupted, making an effort to hide the accent (and portray a cheap American accent) and make Stevens believe he was a Washington PD SWAT Sniper.  
  
"Who are you people?"  
  
"We are here to save you." Otacon said, calming him.  
  
"I noticed that."  
  
"Sir, I need you to stay there. And not do anything stupid." Otacon added.  
  
"I will, don't worry" He said, grabbing the Skorpion, taking it from Vassov's static fingers.  
  
"Good. Don't go out of that rooftop. Some of our men will come for you, ok?"  
  
"Ok . . ."  
  
-- -- --  
  
"We're fucked." Solid Snake admitted. When he was a grunt, he limited himself to saying "Damn" but this was too much responsibility to stick to correct language.  
  
"What is it?" Dr. Hanson was far more correct in his speech, being an English gentleman. He was the only non-American in the support crew, but that would change soon. They were clearly understaffed, and they would recruit far more personnel during the following missions.  
  
"Corporal Robert Bogart found an explosive device within the Embassy. According to him, it's a sort of Incendiary bomb. He can't tell which type until he is sure to know how to prevent detonation. He still considers the possibility of a Napalm bomb."  
  
"Napalm?" The psychologist asked, he ignored a quarter of all the military terms Snake and company used.  
  
Jack Sears began explaining.  
  
"It's a petroleum derivate composite, created during WWII to destroy everything and everyone within a confined space. It is a mixture of Gasoline and other petroleum derivates. It causes burning far worse than regular fire, it is hotter and is impossible to put down, you only can wait until it all burns out. It was prohibited in the Geneva Convention during the 70's, due to the horrible contaminations it causes. However, it is the only effective way to neutralize chemical weapons, so it was legalized just before Gulf War 1."  
  
"And suppose this bomb went off" William Sharp asked. "What kind of effect would it have on the area?"  
  
"A massive fireball. It would cremate everyone within the Embassy within three seconds. The structure would fall apart, and it is likely that every human being in the square would receive third level burnings. The air would be so polluted one out of a hundred people in the city would have lung affections, and one out of ten thousands would die of Lung Cancer."  
  
"Holy shit . . ." Snake let go.  
  
"Yes, really nasty stuff."  
  
"Mr. Sears, isn't it possible that the device is not an Incendiary bomb, but rather a Chemical weapons projector?" Katya asked, trying to se if she was really being shown the worst case scenario.  
  
"Impossible, Sub Commander. You see, the detonator of the bomb is not the Napalm itself, but other, more traditional way of explosives. In the Vietnam War, they were attached to standard bomber warheads, launched from Bombers. Our man identified the detonator as Czechoslovakian made SEMTEX If the liquid inside the tank is contaminated with Chemical weapons, the SEMTEX would incinerate them." Raiden informed, and watched Snake wince.  
  
"How much time is it going to take for Corporal Bogart to disarm the device?" Sharp asked.  
  
"There's no way we can tell, but I guess that over 40 minutes."  
  
"Is it to my understanding that the team is trapped?" Monroe asked.  
  
"It is" Snake admitted "But they have a job to do. Another team is working by the clock to release the hostages."  
  
"And the snipers?"  
  
"One is trapped with team Epsilon. The other one is still in the heliport." Snake commented.  
  
"Snake . . ." Raiden called, blankly.  
  
"What?" Snake asked, directly.  
  
"Didn't Ocelot say he and his men would go to the heliport to escape?"  
  
"I sent Charlie to go there." Snake said.  
  
"Snake you . . ." Raiden controlled himself, knowing Snake was his commander.  
  
"Jack, if you want to call me a fucking idiot you can."  
  
"Snake, first, you mean you will let Ocelot go?"  
  
"Jack, put yourself in my position. I have to save those hostages. If I haven't agreed with Ocelot, the hostages would be dead, and the bomb may have gone off. Just because they are enemies we can't just kill them."  
  
"And second, what about Elijah?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Elijah is guarding that place. In the original mission plan, he was meant to get reinforcements, but both teams are delayed. Even though he is a good shooter and a smart soldier, Elijah Slervansk is not prepared to fight a Spetz Naz captain, two KGB Colonels and a member of FOXHOUND at the same time."  
  
Snake had been screwed: He hadn't considered that. "Shit."  
  
"Can't you order Slervansk out?" Monroe asked.  
  
"No use. There's an enemy security camera in place. It is very smartly located, and there's no way he can go through. He managed to bypass it, since Otacon hacked into it, but I doubt it will work again."  
  
"Is there any possibility that Slervansk might avoid confrontation?" Sharp continued.  
  
"Now that's semantics. If you mean hide, it's a possibility, but members of ECLIPSE never had advanced stealth training. If you mean surrender, that's impossible. I don't, nor does the NSA; nor does the DOD, desire to see a member of a top secret special unit as a hostage."  
  
"Are you absolutely positive Slervansk doesn't stand a chance?" Monroe asked, wondering if ECLIPSE was truly that inexperienced.  
  
"In combat, you can never be absolutely sure of everything. Is it a possibility that Slervansk can kill Steyanovich, Vereyanka, Vassov, Ocelot and four Alpha team members armed only with an M9 pistol and his intelligence? Believe it or not, it is possible. Unlikely, but possible. However, I won't run the risk. I want to talk to him."  
  
"It's not so easy, Snake" Raiden explained. "If he calls us, it's not so bad, if we are the ones calling, and initiating burst transmission. We need to begin an encryption protocol and . . ."  
  
"Than what the fuck are you doing just talking here? Go!" Snake snapped.  
  
Sharp though for a second. "Doctor Hanson, in an extreme situation, such as an eight-on-one gun fight, ho would Slervansk react?"  
  
"Being the unit psychologist, I asses that a man of Slervansk background would be able to keep his cool and stay out of harm's way." Hanson explained. "He would probably hide and, if caught, try to delay the enemy as he tries to escape. I doubt he'll try to fight Ocelot and his men face- to-face, and I find it unconceivable for Elijah to surrender.  
  
"Sub commander Monroe, do you considers Slervansk to be expendable?" Sharp asked, cautiously.  
  
"No mother fucking way." Snake interrupted.  
  
"Snake . . ."  
  
"I won't just stand here while one of my boys dies out there." One of his boys. Damn, he felt close to those kids. It was something he wasn't expecting. He never had. And that situation, for example, was no exception. Five years ago, executing Sniper Wolf with a neat .45 gunshot in the forehead he had absolutely no fucking idea that he would end up trying to save that woman's brother's life.  
  
Otacon walked in, confusedly  
  
"Snake, Raiden just entered my PC like crazy, you know."  
  
"Let him. It's really important."  
  
"I have no problem with that."  
  
"Then?"  
  
"Snake, Vassov is dead."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Elijah killed him. Sniper Rifle shot. To the head." Otacon explained. He wasn't used to watch people die, but . . .  
  
Snake could see Sharp grin. "Great job, kid!" Like talking to Elijah through some sort of telepathy.  
  
"Anything else?"  
  
"Yeah. I just pick up and enemy transmission, it seems Epsilon has been trapped purposefully. The team responsible for the locking is meeting with Ocelot's crew somewhere in the Embassy, but we do know they are taking the main corridor in the third floor."  
  
"Is team Bravo free?" Snake asked.  
  
"Think so." Sharp said.  
  
"Then tell Machuttes and his men to drag their asses and take out those monkeys." Snake said, violently. "Otacon, tell Raiden to order that to Machuttes and his men, all right?"  
  
"Aren't the squad's radios in hands of the terrorists?"  
  
"Right . . ."  
  
"I have an idea . . ." Monroe proposed, in a short manner. "Our advanced team was given CODEC . . . Maybe Rodriguez still has his"  
  
"It's worth trying."  
  
"Then do it." Snake ordered, and Otacon obeyed.  
  
-- -- --  
  
"Ok, moving out." Rodriguez responded, through the CODEC, and cut off communications.  
  
"Who was that?" Slonoskvo asked, with her usual curiousness.  
  
"Dr. Emmerich. He says there's an enemy squad in the hallway just ahead. "  
  
"So?" Machuttes couldn't care less.  
  
"Apparently, the government will accept to let the bad guys go this time, without the Metal Gear. The bad boys wanna escape, and thus they need to grab a chopper in the heliport. Elijah is posted there. If Steyanovich's troops get there is really a large possibility that our favorite Iraqi sharpshooter will turn into cottage cheese."  
  
"You know, Sean, your sense of humor sucks," Nadia said back, worried for her comrade, "Emmerich is right, we need to go there and flush out those bastards."  
  
"I don't know . . ." Joshua doubted. Being commander of team Bravo meant that the safety of the members under his command was his absolute responsibility.  
  
"C'mon. It's orders." Rodriguez was the first to turn, and Nadia followed him quickly. Machuttes stared at both of them for a while, and then decided to join them.  
  
-- -- --  
  
"Elijah? Are you there?" Snake called, once Raiden had given him the speaker of the Command radio.  
  
"Here I am. What's wrong?"  
  
"Listen carefully. The government has given in to half of their demands."  
  
"Really? They are just going to let them go, won't they?" The sniper's voice tone was dark and at the same time, conscious.  
  
"Elijah, the NSA has ordered me to let go of Ocelot. I can't fuck with these guys. They fuck with me." Snake stopped, after flushing out his frustration. "He's headed to the Heliport to be picked by Charlie."  
  
"Wait, you are saying that if I get in Ocelot's way I'm dead?"  
  
"That's correct. And don't even dream to resist, because he has escorts, OK?"  
  
"OK, I'll lay low."  
  
"Don't lay low. Be inexistent." Snake said a phrase he had learnt from "The Hell Master", AKA McDonnell Miller, back in his days in FOX-HOUND to reflect hiding to avoid a passing enemy force. "If you want some advice, I suggest you get the hell out of there undetected."  
  
"That's not the worse news" The agent explained.  
  
"What are they?" Snake predicted the Sergeant's words.  
  
"They are already in their way here." He explained; through the 5x scope attached to the G3/SG-1, clear as day, a group of men walked through the yard slowly, like enjoying a walk. One of them was recognizable from the Shadow Moses VR; Revolver Ocelot.  
  
Now that was a man Elijah wouldn't like to face in a gun fight. There was no denial; he had to get out . . .  
  
"Elijah, don't worry. Forget your sniping mission. Your mission objective is to stay alive."  
  
" . . . " The look on Elijah's face was grim; He was trapped, and the wound in his thigh wouldn't help when the painkillers stopped acting. Looking up, he noticed that the clouds were growing. A storm was coming.  
  
"Elijah, don't die on me." Snake said it in an absolutely frank tone. He wasn't only telling the truth, he was also expressing what he felt.  
  
"All right . . ."  
  
-- -- --  
  
What the fuck was going on now? Charlie asked himself over and over. That CTA, Jack Sears, had just ordered him to turn around . . . And pick up the enemies? If was likely that the government had gone over his head on this one, but what if he was taken hostage?  
  
Why him? Why not some cheap FBI pilot? Stupid question. In an absolutely black op, like ECLIPSE's, they needed a pilot that was able to keep a secret, even after the third beer in Fort Meade's lounge bar. And he was perfect, wasn't him? He had been a FOX-HOUND pilot of the last ten years, almost eleven. Back in the day, he flew cheap cargo choppers and getting agents under cover. Including rescuing Solid Snake in Zanzibar.  
  
He tried to make a sense that what happened to Zanzibar. Yeah. After the fall of its military regime, and the total annihilation of their special weapons (Metal Gear and Oilix) it was assaulted by three Chinese armored divisions, and it became part of the Peoples Republic of China.  
  
Back on the task at hand, he remembered the not so improbable chance that he could be taken hostage. But true was that if he was put a gun at his head, he could just turn off the engine of his UH-60K Blackhawk and send those fucks to the next generation. He grimed. He had so much power in his hands. But he wasn't young anymore; he couldn't ride those amazing Apaches he grew up with, not even think about the Stealth version of the Apache attack chopper, the Comanche.  
  
No, it was for young boys. He was now a transport chopper pilot, a ferryman for wet works operatives. His V-shaped jaw seemed to bend when he smiled. Damn, he was old. And now that his bosses were submitting to a bunch of terrorists . . .  
  
He steered the Blackhawk and decided to take a fly-by the heliport. Just to get the feeling for it.  
  
-- -- --  
  
"So?" Dolph was growing impatient. That was no problem to Amerstraus, who was a sniper and was used to tiring wait periods. John stared at Bob, who was sitting right in front of the bomb, staring at it, yet doing nothing. "Aren't you going to do anything?"  
  
"John, like it or not, bomb disposal is a dangerous job, and I need concentration, OK?"  
  
"Suit yourself" Dolph said, with an exasperated tone.  
  
"Does it look active?" Nick, due to his sniping background, more relaxed.  
  
"No . . . It seems its radio controlled" "So, do you think the bad guys have the detonator?"  
  
"For sure." He said.  
  
"Do you think you can defuse it?"  
  
"I don't do miracles."  
  
-- -- --  
  
The crosshair moved, only a few inches, to start pointing at Ocelot's chest. Through the scope of Elijah's rifle, the group of terrorists seemed to walk easily. It was tensioning. The roar of Charlie's helicopter, even though distant, was present and kept Elijah focused. Because if the NSA had indeed given up to the terrorists' demands, it would be an ECLIPSE chopper that would drive Ocelot and his men to safety.  
  
The Russians still dragged a hostage, held by two Alpha Commandos. With large cheeks, bald, could it be they were using Ambassador Sobrietsky as a human shield? Those men were not only hardcore professionals; they had guts, because when you mess with a Russian diplomat, you mess with Russia. And experience told Elijah Russia was a country you didn't want to mess with. Even after Yeltsin's coup, the Russian military were a bunch of bad asses. Drunk, badly paid, depressed, rebellious, bad asses.  
  
They were now on open ground. What if he killed Ocelot? No, they would execute the hostage. Still, wouldn't they anyway? Ocelot was the one forward; Vereyanka and Steyanovich followed him, and a team of four men behind, acting as escorts, and dragging Sobrietsky. Maybe, if he killed carrier, he would have time to . . . No, he was delusional if he though that could work. He kept staring into scope, hoping something would come up.  
  
-- -- --  
  
"I think I got them!" Rodriguez said, while peeking from a corner. A human mass; the remaining Alpha team, was running, each behind another like a snake. Every step taken by the group lead Sean's heart beat rate slightly higher, to the point he was virtually twitching.  
  
"Do we ambush them?" Machuttes asked. He was ready to kill. His gripped on the G36K was noticeable and so was the look on his eyes. He was expectant; it was the rush of combat that kept some soldiers in the frontlines.  
  
"Almost . . ." Sean whispered. The team was so close, almost three meters . . . He hid his head, and returned to the darkness, with the rest of his crew. The team was concentrated on their mission they just passed through the corner, and that gave the chance to Machuttes who ran behind them.  
  
He was now staring at the enemies back. It was too much tension, he was sweating, the combat high raising his blood pressure levels to extraordinary stages . . . he needed to release it, and he shouted.  
  
"Die, you bastards!" He told his enemy he as stood there. And that was one of the worst mistakes one could make.  
  
The Russians turned, stopping from their walk to see that man aiming that rifle . . . And shooting. The fourth soldier was machine gunned instantly, the other ones spreading into cover. The other three took cover behind some columns in the hallway, firing furiously. Joshua ran into cover.  
  
Russian design was clearly inspired in Byzantine architecture. Columns were at the sides of hall, now being hit by Kalashnikov rounds, being demolished, the shards of material littering the floor, breaking the ceramic, along with tons of empty bullet casings.  
  
"Shit! You stupid fuck!" Rodriguez expressed himself. He knew Machuttes was higher ranked, but he couldn't give less. "I have an idea!" He shouted, drowned by the gunfire and the sound of the wall and columns shattering, ridding the floor with debris.  
  
He grabbed a cylindrical shaped grenade, similar to the flash bang, and removed the safety. Slonoskvo recognized them; she was one of the first ECLIPSE members to be recruited and back in the day, ECLIPSE didn't use Flash bangs to divert the enemy, they used Smoke Grenades.  
  
John threw it to the gunfire. The smoke started to spread, but one of the bullets pierced the grenade, making the smoke spread faster He knew it wouldn't work; smoke only worked with rookies that stayed in one place while shooting. Hardened veterans like those would try to dissipate the smoke, or try to overcome it; through the thick black smoke, the enemy put on their NVG and started firing again. Rodriguez was expecting that.  
  
Machuttes understood the tactic, and turned on the flashlight attached to the G36K and turning the NVG on. The others followed they had a plan. They ran out of cover, bullet hitting all around, and Joshua (who saw one of them, since the NVG ECLIPSE had was better quality than the Alpha) aimed the G36K to the enemy's face.  
  
An NVG works by amplification of the light it catches by a 100%. If a large source of light is pointed at it, the light is magnified, creating an immense flashing light, burning the user's retinas.  
  
One of them blinded, Machuttes took the chance and fired a three-round- burst, hitting the tango in the head and killing him. Just then, Slonoskvo did the same with the other and Rodriguez shoot directly. Three seconds later, the bodies of all four Alpha Commandos lay on the floor, among empty shell casings and debris.  
  
"We did it . . . " Rodriguez was breathing heavily. Combat was tiring. However, this time Machuttes took the initiative.  
  
"C'mon. Elijah is still in the heliport. We need to rescue him."  
  
Suddenly, thunder rang, making the ECLIPSE members shudder.  
  
"It's raining" Rodriguez said, stating the obvious.  
  
"Better for us," Nadia said, "The enemy won't hear us with the rain." The billions of droplets were letting themselves hear. It was a spring storm, not so uncommon. What a dramatic ending for her first CT mission.  
  
-- -- --  
  
Elijah walked down the stairs, his Beretta M9 resting in his sweating hands. The gun didn't slip; he was wearing those Nomex gloves. They were augmenting the heat, but he didn't mind. He hid behind one of the wooden grates of warehouse, hearing footsteps and voices.  
  
"So, Vassov is dead?"  
  
"Yes, I tried to call his radio, but some American answered. They got him all right." Ocelot explained. They were walking peacefully, as if they didn't know there was someone spying on them.  
  
"What a disgrace. I assume Steyanovich's other team won't arrive?" Vereyanka asked, cautiously. "Anyways, where is he?"  
  
"I left him and two of his men in the first floor, in case we are followed by Snake's men."  
  
"Who is this Snake anyway, Tovarish?"  
  
"An old enemy. He thinks he is in control of his own destiny. Poor idiot." Ocelot seemed to have fun describing Snake. Elijah could now see Ocelot and Vereyanka's shadow. He could guess he was followed by two tangos . . . That were walking Sobrietsky at gunpoint.  
  
The Kurd could see Ocelot stopping for a second. "Listen, Comrade Colonel, when this helicopter arrives, I want you to kill Sobrietsky, understood?" He could also hear Sobrietsky losing his composure. It wasn't nice to have someone saying you were going to die.  
  
He called Snake on the CODEC.  
  
"Hey! Someone! Answer me!" Even though the CODEC can pick up sounds as minute as a rat's heartbeat, he was still unwilling to let Ocelot's crew to hear him.  
  
"Snake here. What's wrong?"  
  
"Snake . . . They are going to kill Sobrietsky."  
  
"Damn . . . Can you do anything to save him?"  
  
"Doubt it." He said, beaten.  
  
"Listen, I just got a phone call form the NSA director. They have decided to screw Ocelot. You can use any force you see fit to finish him off."  
  
"All right . . ."  
  
He cut off, and sneaked through the boxes, keeping his head low, his mind focused. He reached until the door that leads to the stairs, and to Steyanovich's team. It was made of metal; it would stop the sound any gunfight might cause. He shut it carefully, without making any noise, and then quickly hid and took a sneak peek of the scene. Both guards were checking the door that lead to the Heliport, and Ocelot was checking the corpse Yuri, the latter that did nothing but lay there, stabbed and its neck broken. Vereyanka was distracted, and Sobrietsky was in the corner, without laying attention, just focusing in staying alive.  
  
He sneaked up to Vereyanka and with a quick move, grabbed his throat and put his Beretta up his temple. He let off a scream, and Ocelot and his men turned to see the ECLIPSE sniper, holding Vereyanka hostage. Ocelot himself grabbed Sobrietsky and did the same thing. Both parties stared at each other, as the couple of Alpha team members kept their sights on Slervansk.  
  
"Let go of him!" Ocelot shouted, angrily.  
  
"Let Sobrietsky go!" Slervansk shouted back, he was far more focused.  
  
"You must be one of Snake's men, right?" Ocelot said, smirking, pressing the Colt up to Sobrietsky's temple.  
  
"Right . . ."  
  
"So, ECLIPSE, huh?"  
  
"What the . . ."  
  
"Yes, the word does spread. An antiterrorism unit formed by members of FOX- HOUND. Sweet irony." Ocelot's eyes were focused on Elijah. He was still hidden behind Vereyanka, who was trying to resist the urge to scream. "You must be Wolf's relative. Your eyes are permanently focused. Your hands don't tremble while holding a gun."  
  
"Is that the reason you discovered me? Thought my appearance was rather distinctive." Elijah side-stepped to the left, in order to face Ocelot directly.  
  
"On another topic, may I give you one small suggestion for the next time you take a man as a human shield?" Ocelot was confident, as usual.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Grab someone I give a shit about." In that split second, Ocelot steered his Single Action Army in Elijah and Vereyanka's direction, the bullet lodging into Vereyanka's brain, pushing him and Elijah to the floor. Elijah got up, from below the corpse and fired a few shots at Ocelot, (the Beretta's sound was less surprising than the G3 strapped to his back), yet the bullets seemed to steer out of the way, while Elijah dived behind cover, dodging an improvised burst from Steyanovich's men.  
  
He hid behind the crate. He could feel the bursts of blood going through his neck, and he tightened his grip on his Beretta as he jumped out of cover, firing, feeling the time slowed down, and landing behind cover; a group of metal shelves, filled with cans, boxes, bottles . . . Falling, pushed by the terrorists' furious gunfire. Elijah grabbed the gun on Steyanovich's hand (a CZ Skorpion sub machinegun) and started firing back. Blowing some elements on the shelves himself. Bullets flying everywhere, it was incredibly stressing. He leaned out of cover and fired a seven-round- burst to Ocelot's head.  
  
To his amazement, the bullets seemed to steer out of the way, one of them amazingly curving and hitting the back of one of the former Spetz Naz soldier's head. The other one kept firing, until his magazine gave up. He started reloading, ready to kill Elijah.  
  
All the gunfire had drowned another sound; helicopter blades, the chopper was landing. Ocelot reloaded his SAA, and turned to the remaining Alpha trooper. "Well, you have proved useful," he commented, as he put the gun next to the last soldier and pressed the trigger, blowing his brains to the next dimension.  
  
Elijah was on the floor, doubting if it was safe to go out. He stood up, to see Ocelot grabbing Sobrietsky by the neck. Elijah fired the little left in Vereyanka's Skorpion's ammo capacity. The bullets seemed to get out of the way. No, it wasn't bad aim; there was something odd about him. Ocelot returned fire with his SAA, the sniper jumped for cover. Ocelot used Sobrietsky as a human shield again until he reached the door.  
  
-- -- --  
  
"Damn! The chopper is there already!" Joshua shouted in frustration, watching the building though the greenish aura the expensive NVG caused, as he and his team ran, under the furious rain, the mud below the grass in the Embassy's grounds made bothersome sounds.  
  
They reached the Warehouse's door, and kicked it open.  
  
-- -- --  
  
Colonel Vereyanka and his men turned around, confident. They hadn't heard the gunfire or the shouting. When he turned to see the open door, allowing a cold breeze and some droplets in. It was dark to see what was behind, but something called his attention; three couples of green dots in the dark. Maybe it was an effect of the rain, but the manual said . . . Night Vision Goggles.  
  
Eclipse busted in, firing wildly at Steyanovich and his crew, while running forward. Object flew spectacularly at the terrorists, pushed by the bullets, like if ECLIPSE was followed by the wind.  
  
The bullets impacted all over Steyanovich and his last men, killing them with style. The Bravo team didn't stop to check if they were dead; they had to follow, and save, Elijah.  
  
-- -- --  
  
Ocelot was angry. He was the only terrorist alive, yet somehow he felt safe, in the rain, with a hostage, walking towards the black chopper. It was a Blackhawk and the pilot inside only stared at him, as he violently threw Sobrietsky inside.  
  
The scene inside was blue-toned. Typical Spec Ops chopper. Ocelot started to motion to get himself in, but . . .  
  
"Freeze!" Elijah shouted, from the rain. His blond hair had lost its shape, now being wet. Elijah held his Beretta with both hands at Ocelot's head, his G3/SG-1 resting behind him. "This is Special Operations ECLIPSE, you cocksucker!"  
  
"Your sister was far more limited in terms of insults." It was a distraction; while he said it, he pulled out his SAA and fired at Slervansk, who in a reflex action jumped leftwards, effectively dodging the bullet. Indeed, the rain fouled Ocelot's aim.  
  
"I have a tank full of napalm ready to blow the Embassy and this block to hell, and it will kill you as soon as I press this button!" Ocelot held up a device, a bomb detonator.  
  
Elijah froze; He was serious. Ocelot would blow that joint if he wanted to, but he knew he had to stop it.  
  
The Kurd returned fire with his M9, the bullets going astray and drawing lines in the water falling from the sky. However, a lucky bullet hit the detonator, breaking it and pushing it below the helicopter, finishing Ocelot's threat. Ocelot well could have threatened to kill Sobrietsky, but Ocelot felt this kid was worth of a gunfight with him, right?  
  
He started firing back with his SAA, feeling the bullets get out of their trajectory right before hitting him in the eyes. Elijah wasn't taking cover. He was dodging Ocelot's bullets as he want along.  
  
Finally, Ocelot fired a bullet, hitting in the floor before Slervansk's feet, raising the water there. Ocelot was now standing on the very edge of the Heliport, a slight push might send him to oblivion. The rain was furious, and Elijah stopped to reconsider. Ocelot aimed to the Sniper's head, trying to blow his brain. However, a bullet came from the night, blowing Ocelot's gun out of his hand.  
  
A woman was holding the sniper rifle. Effectively, she was followed by two other men, with ECLIPSE uniforms. Nadia had picked up Elijah's rifle. At used it well. Ocelot was unarmed, fighting four ECLIPSE shooters. He smiled at the ECLIPSE shooters.  
  
"Congratulations, you have proved yourselves" Ocelot's smile disappeared, as he jumped –rather, back flipped, and fell out of the heliport. Charlie was astonished; He had never seen something like that.  
  
The ECLIPSE members walked to the heliport's ledge; Ocelot wasn't in the street, nowhere to be seen. The team seemed to congregate, as Elijah and Sean shook their hands. Nadia hugged him, too. In Joshua's opinion, the Russian assault shooter and Iraqi sniper were more than friends.  
  
"Great job, team."  
  
-- -- --  
  
The final sweat drop fell off Bogart's forehead as he cut the last cable on the bomb. It was a true mess; cables of several colors were above the SEMXTEX. He let out a breath, as he finished defusing.  
  
"Done."  
  
"Done!?" Dolph's patience had crushed into its limits and gone though.  
  
-- -- --  
  
"They did it!" Snake said, while still holding the radio. "They mother fucking did it! Damn!" He was so proud. The mission was over; all enemies eliminated, but Ocelot had escaped, as usual. The doors trapping Bogart and his crew were blown by Machuttes team. They were now on their way back on Charlie's chopper, but first, they left the hostages at the local FBI office, as usual.  
  
"So, were you expecting them to make it?" Raiden asked, confident.  
  
"Not really, at some points. But shit, they blew my expectations."  
  
"You realize Ocelot was plotting something, right?"  
  
"I did. But right now, I have to make some changes."  
  
"Yeah, I made some calls. Most of the new personnel are on their way, but one is already here, she's really here to assist our wounded boys. Dolph took a bullet in the torso, and Slervansk has his leg stabbed. Not bad, but they wanted FOX-HOUND medic to maintain ECLIPSE's identity as secret as it could be."  
  
"FOX-HOUND medics? You don't mean . . ."  
  
"Missed me, Snake?" The woman's voice was truthful; she had a dark tone, as if she felt guilty.  
  
"Naomi?"  
  
-- -- --  
  
-- -- --  
  
Author's note; Here goes another. I didn't require much help this time, except from my dad, a Chemist, who explained to me how Napalm worked. Hope you enjoyed, and expect some of the first chapters re-vamped. And as always, the good old Simon Wolf-Gough, for his always helpful suggestions and corrections. 


End file.
